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MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER; 


OR, 

THE BROTHERS. 


By ROSE PORTER. 



, c f j ? 

„ NOV 33 1887 

> J 0 <? J2 ? 


NEW YORK: 

ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY, 

38 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET. 



COPYRIGHT, 1887, BY 

Anson D. F. Randolph & Company. 


Edward O. Jenkins’ Sons, 
Printers and. Stereotypers , 
ao North William St., New York. 


PREFATORY. 


T HE law of the lower realm, that “ Nature never 
repeats herself,” reaches up and on to the 
higher kingdom of character, where every indi- 
vidual soul possesses the light or darkness of its 
own special selfhood. And yet a soul may suggest 
another with an intensity of likeness so real that it 
bridges continents and centuries, asserting a claim 
of brother or sisterhood with one who lived and 
loved, suffered and rejoiced, in ages so long gone 
by that their story can only be read as we turn the 
pages of illumined missive, or trace the moss and 
lichen grown inscriptions on crumbling stones in 
ancient burial-grounds. 

Very vividly, I realized this truth, as the thought 
came to me of passing on for your perusal the his- 
tory of Nathan Parret, for with it came to my mem- 
ory the old-time legend of St. Christopher, which, 
though all unlike in detail and circumstance, strik- 
ingly foreshadows in its spiritual development Na- 
than’s experiences. As it holds the key-note of my 
tale I will briefly recount it, for perchance without, 
you might miss the harmony that underlies Nathan’s 
story, as surely as struggle underlies victory. This 
truth you will need to remember in the reading of 
his life, with its onward and upward course, so often 
seemingly rudely broken and interrupted ; which is 
no cause for regret, since trial is the test of all noble 
souls, and discipline the law of human progress. A 

< 3 ) 


4 


PR ERA TOR Y. 


fitting maxim that for this legend of St. Christo- 
pher, which leads, as we seek his birth-place, to the 
far-away land of Canaan, and of Judea among the 
hills. 

Offero — “the Bearer” — we have no record ex- 
plaining why this emblem name was given him, for 
all we know of his childhood and youth is summed 
up in the story of his rare strength, which made him 
a king physically among his people. Nevertheless, 
poverty compelled him to seek the lowly office of a 
servant, though he determined to call none Master 
save the most powerful Monarch. After long search 
he came at last to the court of a Ruler said to excel 
all others in strength, and to him he straightway 
offered allegiance, which was gladly accepted. 

At that time Offero had not heard of the “ king- 
dom of will,” right and wrong, in which either 
Christ or Satan must hold sway, and in his igno- 
rande he supposed, as his Master was the chief of 
Monarchs, he must be destitute of all fear. Hence 
great was his surprise to find this man of strength 
trembling with dread as he listened to the song of 
a wandering minstrel, who more than once repeated 
the name of Satan. 

Offero noted, too, that at that name the Ruler 
bowed his head and made the sign of the cross, as 
though to ward off impending danger. In reply to 
his query as to “Why this was ? ” the Ruler answered, 
“ I make this sign that Satan may have no power over 
me, for he is very mighty, and I fear lest he shall 
overcome me.” 

From these words Offero knew there was one 
stronger than the Ruler he served, and he said : “O 
Ruler, since there is one whom thou fearest, him will 


P RE FA TOR Y. 


5 


I seek, for my Master must fear no one.” And again 
he started forth in search of the One stronger than 
any other. 

After many days he came to the border of a wide, 
desolate plain, across which, advancing as though to 
meet him, approached a mighty and terrible form, 
marching at the head of an armed legion. This 
terrible being paid no heed to Offero’s great size 
and strength, but with an air of authority demanded, ' 
“ Whither goest thou, and whom dost thou seek ? ” 

Then said Offero, “ I seek the King Satan, for I 
have heard he is the most powerful of all Rulers, 
and I would have him, this One of greatest strength^ 
for master.” And Satan, well pleased, answered, “ I 
am he whom you seek, and henceforth your service 
shall be easy and pleasant.” And Offero, bowing 
before him in token of submission, was numbered 
among Satan’s followers. 

Not long after, as they journeyed, they came to a 
cross erected by the wayside, which, when Satan 
saw, he turned in haste and fled, trembling with fear j 
as the Ruler had done. Then said Offero, “ What is 
this cross, and wherefore dost thou, like my first 
Master, tremble and fear before it? Except thou 
tellest me I must leave thee.” 

Being thus compelled to answer, the evil one re- 
plied : “ I fear the cross, because upon it Jesus died ; 
and when I behold it I fly, lest He should overcome 
me.” So a second time Offero found he had been 
deceived, and that there was One still mightier and 
stronger than either of the Monarchs he had served. 
And he left Satan, and wandered for many days 
seeking this Christ — the One above all others. 


6 


PREFA TOR Y. 


At length he came to a humble hermit, whom he 
entreated to tell him where the Christ could be 
found. The hermit, seeing that Offero knew noth- 
ing of Jesus, began to teach him, saying: “Thou 
art right in believing that Christ is the greatest of 
all Kings, for His power is over both heaven and 
earth, and will last throughout eternity ; but thou 
canst not serve Him lightly. He will impose great 
duties if He accept thy service, and thou must fast 
and pray.’* “ But fast I cannot,” said Offero, “ for 
it is my strength that makes me a good servant, 
and I know not how to pray.” 

“ Go seek the Christ,” the hermit said, “ and He 
will teach thee. And if first thou wilt use thy 
strength as a test of thy willingness to serve, go to 
the deep, wide river that is often swollen with the 
rains, and sweeps away in its swift current many of 
those who would cross it, and aid those who struggle 
with its waves; and the weak and the little ones, bear 
thou on thy shoulders from shore to shore. This 
is a good work, and if the Christ will have thee for 
His service, He will assure thee of His acceptance 
and teach thee how to pray.” 

On hearing this Offero was glad, and hastening 
to the river, he built upon its banks a hut of boughs, 
and then he began his work and not one perished, 
where formerly so many had been swept away. 
When asked why he rendered this service of help- 
ing the weak, always he replied, “ I am Christ’s ser- 
vant ; this is the work He bids me do.” For a staff 
Offero used a palm-tree, which he pulled up in the 
forest, and it was not too large for his great height 
and strength. 


P RE FA TOR Y. 


7 


As Jesus beheld this and heard Offerees words, He 
was well pleased ; for though Offera had not yet 
learned to pray, he had found a way to serve. 

At length there came a night when the storm was 
wilder than ever before, and seeking refuge from 
its fury, Offero found shelter within his hut of 
boughs ; as he entered it, louder than the roar of 
the wind and dashing of the waves, he heard the 
voice of a feeble child calling, “ Offero, wilt thou 
carry me over?” Yet though he went out quickly, 
no child could he find. But no sooner did he re- 
enter the hut than he heard the same voice calling, 
“ Offero, Offero, help me over the river ! ” 

Again he went forth, this time taking a lantern 
that cast a bright light athwart his path, and not 
far had he gone when he saw the child, alone, out 
in the storm. Eagerly the little one besought : 
“ Carry me over to-night ! ” And Offero, consent- 
ing, lifted the child in his strong arms, and placed 
him on his shoulders, and began to cross the foam- 
crested waves of the river. And as he crossed, louder 
blew the wind, darker grew the night, more wildly 
tossed the waves, while the roar of the swift-flowing 
waters was as the sound of many thunders. 

Meanwhile, the little child that had seemed at 
first to the strong Offero a light weight to carry, 
grew heavier and heavier, until he feared he would 
sink beneath the burden. “Jesus, whom I serve, 
help me,” he cried. And he did not know that cry 
was a prayer. And then, leaning hard, clinging 
close to the staff, at last he reached die other shore, 
and put his burden safely down on the green 
grass of the bank, while again he cried, “Whom 


8 


PREFA TOR Y. 


have I borne ? had it been the whole world it could 
not have been more heavy.” 

Then the child replied : “ Me thou hast desired 
to serve, and I have accepted thee. Lo ! thou hast 
borne not only the whole world, but Him who made 
it, on thy shoulders ; for in thine hour of weakness 
thou sought strength of the One of All Strength.” 
And Offero knew the Christ, and fell down and 
worshipped Him ; thus he had learned not only to 
serve, but also to pray. 

The legend does not end here ; other trials of 
his faithfulness still awaited Offero before he was 
“called to be a saint.” But always he met them 
holding firm in his clasp the staff the Christ had 
blessed ; and when tried by persecution or tempta- 
tion, he ever made answer, “Through Christ I will 
conquer, for when my strength is weakness, He 
will help me. And He let me bear Him on my 
shoulders, saying, ‘ Henceforth, inasmuch as ye do 
it unto one of the least of my brethren, ye do it 
unto me.’ And my name Offero, * the Bearer,’ He 
changed to ‘ Christ-offerer.’ ” 

Do you wonder that in the sunny lands of the 
South, where legends and wayside songs are in- 
wrought into belief as our creeds are interwoven 
with our faith, this tale of St. Christopher has 
come to fill a place real and life-like ? And that 
even the sight of his picture suffuses new strength 
into the hearts of the weak and weary, as they softly 
whisper, “ He was Offero, but now he is St. Chris- 
topher ; for in the hour when his strength failed he 
sought help from the One of All Strength.” 






























































PART I. 




















If the deed is precious for the sake of the thought of 
which it is the fruit, the thought must vindicate its power 
by the corresponding deed. 

Man, as he is, is not fully revealed till thought is em- 
bodied in deed. And when Descartes had said, “/ think , 
therefore I am,” I cannot but rejoice that Whichcote si- 
lently corrected the famous sentence by the more 7nemorable 
phrase, “/ act, therefore I am .” — Westcott. 


T. 


f I NHERE is nothing that so speedily suggests 
mystery as contradiction, whether it be 
manifested by action, speech, or the mute sign of 
opposing principles in merely material work. This 
is especially noticeable in architecture, where mark- 
edly conflicting styles will straightway rivet atten- 
tion, and awaken interest in what otherwise would 
be nothing more than an ordinary building. And 
seldom is this statement more strongly verified 
than in the case of the old Parret House, around 
which for years there has centred a never-waning 
curiosity, not only on the part of new-comers, but 
also among the old residents of the somewhat pro- 
saic village of N . A village that is a fac-simile 

of hundreds of villages that are scattered thick as 
daisies in the grass from New England’s remotest 
inland boundary to the farthest out-reaching sea- 
port town that studs its coast ; from Maine’s rock- 
bound shore on to the sheltered harbors of Massa- 
chusetts and Connecticut. And this wide-spreading 
area covers acres and acres, diversified by mountains, 
lesser hills, valleys, and open meadow-lands, dense 

(ii) 


12 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


forests and low-lying plains, interspersed by rushing 
rivers and lakes, some wide and wave-tossed as 
miniature seas, others calm as the still waters of 
King David’s psalm. 

But all this has not to do with Parret House, and 
the impression one received from even a passing 
glance at the dull red of its brick walls, the monot- 
ony of which were broken by a goodly array of nar- 
row window-casements, set with the tiny glass panes 
of a bygone time. “ Window lights ” those bits of 
glass were called by the country-folk, for the early 
settlers of New England had a way of poetic no- 
menclature, while, at the same time, they so stead- 
fastly banished fancy and romance from any recog- 
nized place either in their hearts or minds. 

Adding to the quaint effect of the many windows 
were the close, gloomy-looking shutters that guard- 
ed them, and which were made of solid, undivided 
lengths of wood, like box-lids, and painted a green 
that was no more like the green of nature than the 
coloring of a gray-coated sparrow is like the brill- 
iant hues of the oriole or blue-bird. 

As for the door that led into the northern side 
of the house, it was one of those inhospitable doors 
that opened wide its upper half, as though to court 
conversation, while the lower half, through which 
entrance was attainable, remained close - barred. 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


13 


And yet, spite these sombre details, there was 
something of picturesqueness about that north-side 
view. For the slope of the roof, as it extended over 
the western wing, was a long slant, broken by dor- 
mer windows, and the upward-pointing shaft of a 
high chimney, from which smoke began to float 
skyward by dawn of spring and mid-summer days, 
and a full hour before sunrise during the autumn 
and winter months. And no home whose chimney 
thus sends upward the curling haze of its fireside 
smoke, can be utterly destitute of cheer. 

Then, too, — and here it is that curiosity begins 
to waken, — one caught a glimpse of castellated tur- 
rets towering up beyond that western wing, and 
the sight of them was like a sudden annulling of 
space, and the transferring of some hillside chateau 
from the land of sunny France into the very heart 
of bleak New England, — an impression which deep- 
ened into a sense of reality by merely passing from 
the northwestern corner of the house to its southern 
side, for there, instead of beholding the home of a 
well-to-do New England Squire, one stood before 
the vine-wreathed porch of a veritable maisonnette , 
yet sufficiently imposing in size and ornamentation 
to merit the title of M. le Comte’s chateau. This 
effect of reality was enhanced by the flower-bordered 
walk that led from the garden gate up to the very 


14 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


steps of the porch, for those borders were ablaze 
with gaily-tinted blossoms from May on to Novem- 
ber. 

There was a grassy field, too, beyond the gate, 
where, when the sky was clear, sunshine played in 
changing, golden light through the hours of the 
livelong day. In this field, when the year’s season 
was springtime, it was hard to tell which held sway 
— grass-blades, violets, buttercups, or anemones — 
for they all grew in a profusion bountiful as the 
blossoming of their foreign cousins, the far-famed 
double-leaved violets, narcissus, iris white and blue, 
and roses pink and yellow. 

Hence, as I said, though lacking in the brilliancy 
of color possessed by the French-born flowerets, 
they nevertheless made that field seem like a bit of 
France, even though one did miss the song of the 
nightingale, “ most musical, most sweet,” with its 
liquid note that always seems calling for the answer- 
ing of love. Yes, the melody of the nightingale’s 
love - language, as it flits from bough to bough 
among the orange and almond-trees of southern 
France, is something we New England dwellers 
must always miss, though we do have song and 
song-birds. 

But, save in an undefined way, one did not much 
think of the birds, as they noted how nature had 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


15 


helped man in conforming that scene to its foreign 
prototype. For edging the grassy field was a bosquet , 
through which a winding path led to the bank of a 
swift-running brooklet, whose waters, as they rippled 
over the pebbly bed, held a perpetual hint of music. 
On the bank-sides of the stream grew a wild tan- 
gle of alders ; marsh willows ; and dwarf pines, the 
deep green of their spear-like foliage half-hidden by 
the clinging tendrils of bitter-sweet, or the more 
delicate leafage of wild ivy and woodbine. Higher 
up on the banks, and overtopping the lesser 
growths, were oak, chestnut, maple, and hemlock, 
and — not classifying these trees, but merely look- 
ing at the interblending of the various shades of 
green that clothe their boughs in summer, some in 
dark and sombre, others in light and yellow hues 
—it was easy to let imagination picture the tinting 
of olive, magnolia, orange, and almond. 

It was easy, also, to wonder if the distant tink- 
ling of a cow-bell heralded the approach of some 
biown-eyed shepherd or shepherdess, whose shrill 
voice might at any moment break the reigning 
quietness by a sharp call to dog, or scattered flock of 
sheep or goats ; or perchance by the sweeter note of 
even or matin-song, the echoing “ Ave, Ave Maria/’ 
that over-and-over repeated canticle so dear to the 
shepherd youths and maidens of sunny France. 


16 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 

After all this descriptive loitering, you will plainly 
see why the impression one received of Parret 
House greatly depended on whether you ap- 
proached it by the way of the northern or southern 
entrance. 

The two paths of approach were marked by an 
unlikeness quite as striking, the high-road that led 
past the north gate being well kept and much 
travelled. In Colonial days it was the most direct 
route from the now sturdy capital city, to the rock- 
guarded collegiate town, that so early in our coun- 
try’s history, set the royal seal of learning, as a 
pledge of “ high thinking and plain living,” on that 
well-nigh least State — according to the measure of 
miles — that claims a star in the flag of our Union. 
That you may locate Parret House with something 
of definiteness, I will tell you that it is midway be- 
tween the two cities to which I have referred. As 
for the southern, and less-frequented way of ap- 
proaching the mansion, it was a mere by-road for 
wood-cutters and charcoal-burners, with their heavi- 
ly-laden teams — loads that cut deep ruts in the 
yielding soil, where water-pools lingered long after 
every equinoctial storm or down-pouring mid-sum- 
mer shower. And though the width of those ruts 
was no more than a space spanned by a couple of 
inches, they caught deep, far-reaching reflections of 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


17 


overhanging tree-boughs, and glints of blue sky, 
broken by the swiftly-passing fleecy cloudlets, that 
looked like the waving of angels’ wings, mirrored 
there in the roadside pools. 

Ferns and brakes, too, grow high in the deep, 
mossy glades that edge the way ; and long after the 
spring blossoms of the hillside and open fields have 
faded, one may find timid flowerets still in full 
bloom in those sheltered nooks. 

It is strange how flowers, that we are wont to 
call children of sunshine, love shady places like that ; 
following one another in the floral calendar from 
the spring days of opening arbutus buds, on to the 
last bloom of autumn’s golden-rod and purple aster. 
A parable of life, verily ; at least so thought the 
youngest son of Parret House, Nathan, about whom 
the chief interest of our story centres. 

This wood-road was the way by which he liked 
best to return home, whether the hour were mid- 
day or toward nightfall, when fireflies flitted in and 
out among the shadows, like smiles playing amid 
tears on the faces of little children. And this is 
Nathan’s thought, also, for he always had a way of 
thinking a thought into whatever he saw. 

But not so, did Victor Parret, the first-born son 
and heir to all the broad acres of that wide-spread 
farm, save for the narrow strip of meadow-lands 


2 


x8 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

and the stretch of forest, which was Nathan’s by 
right of inheritance. No; Victor was entirely free 
from any tendency to invest either man or nature 
with more than the most casual look revealed, 
and he was content to come and go by the well- 
kept high-road, for which he paid his yearly tax 
with never a murmur, so long as the swiftly-revolv- 
ing wheels of his high-topped chaise encountered 
no obstructing jolt or rut. 

Strange, that the matter of contradictory tastes 
between the brothers should be manifested in so 
slight a matter as their choice of a road ; but so it 
was, and it serves as a type of them from babyhood 
on to manhood. But before I begin to unwind 
the tangled story of their contradictory and con- 
flicting lives, I must pause to tell something of 
their parentage. 

The father, French by birth, education, tempera- 
ment, and taste ; and the mother, whose mind, 
heart, and physique all proclaimed the Puritan an- 
cestry which was her pride, and hence her danger. 
For pride always is dangerous, even though it be 
of so good a thing as birth, education, or religion 
— this we know from our Lord’s own parable re- 
garding the essence of pride ; I mean the one that 
records the prayer of him who thanked God that 
he was “ not as other men.” 


II. 


S I said, if we are to follow the life-story of 



the Parret brothers, we must first learn 
something of the characters of their parents, and 
also of the influences that encompassed their early 
years. And so I turn the pages of a yellow, time- 
stained manuscript to find recorded the tale of 
Adolph Parret’s coming to America, and his meet- 
ing with Squire Wolcott’s fair daughter, gentle, se- 
date Prudence, who straightway won the heart of 
the impulsive Frenchman. The story of their 
courtship reads like a page from some old-time 
love poem, and it is all sweet, fresh, and pure as 
the song of a lark, or the blossom of a lily. 

And if the language seems somewhat quaint 
and formal, it was after the manner of the times. 
Then, too, Adolph Parret was a thorough French- 
man in his power of illumining with rosy color- 
ing all that deeply stirred his heart ; thus, every 
line of that old journal is aglow with admiration 
for what he termed “ the child-simple soul ” of his 
love. “ She is true, pure, and tender as a white 
dove,” — thus he writes; and he pictures “the calm 
depth of her dark eyes,” and her smile, which he 


(19) 


20 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


calls “ half-holy,” while in her voice there was no 
hint of the high-pitched tone that sounded like a 
discordant note in the speech of most of the New 
Englard women he met. 

This is the description of Prudence, as I gather it 
from those manuscript pages. Does it give, I won- 
der, any true idea of Prudence Wolcott ? Certainly 
it suggests a maiden possessed of qualities ready to 
open into a lovely womanhood. And, in many 
respects, that was her development, but there were 
shadows in it, amounting almost — I am forced to 
use the words — to grave inconsistencies ; for noble, 
true impulses more than once were vanquished by 
ignoble in their contest, not with great trials, but 
by the petty daily annoyances of life. Every woman 
knows what these are, for they are neither limited 
by countries or centuries, wealth or poverty ; and 
seek though we may for the victorious weapon with 
which to conquer this armed host, none have ever 
yet found any sure way, save that of strength of 
will sufficient to yield, first, one’s own will to God’s ; 
and then to yield it to others, in the details of life 
which involve, not yielding of principles, but of 
prejudices; not of truths, but of opinions. 

Prudence Wolcott’s marriage with Adolph Par- 
ret, from the very beginning held grave danger ; 
for by education and creed their views were as un- 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


2 


like as their birth-lands were unlike in climate and 
national traits. But those were the days when, in 
New England, the halo of the courtly, brave cham- 
pion of their country, the much-loved Marquis de 
Lafayette, still encircled every Frenchman, and 
with special radiance centred around a high-born 
refugee like the young M. le Comte Parret ; who 
came seeking shelter from the woes of war then 
devastating his own land, and banishing its nobles 
by the score. Thus it happened that he speedily won 
the favor of Squire Wolcott, to whom he brought 
a letter of introduction from no less a person than 
the famous Lafayette himself. So, after reading it, 
the Squire welcomed the young foreigner with 
warmth, and opened wide his hospitable home and 
heart as a safe retreat for this stranger from beyond 
the sea. Yet spite this cordiality of reception, I have 
never heard satisfactorily explained Squire Wolcott’s 
yielding to his daughter’s marriage with any but 
one of his own creed, and a son of his native soil. 

But one thing is certain — when consent was 
granted, it was in no half-way measure; for the 
Squire blessed the marriage not only with a smile 
of hearty good-will and words of sound counsel, but 
also with a substantial gift, for he gave an out-and- 
out deed conveying his north-meadow farm, and 
the homestead thereon, to his daughter Prudence. 


22 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


As for M. le Comte’s own wealth, it seemed 
boundless to the frugal folk among whom he sought 
a new home ; and when he died, eight years after 
the birth of the youngest son, Nathan, he left a 
sum sufficient to rank the Parret brothers wealthier 
than any of their neighbors in all that region of 
country. And added to this, only a brief twelve- 
month afterward they fell heir to their mother’s 
goodly inheritance, which had increased twofold on 
the death of her father, the Squire. Thus, before 
either lad had crossed the threshold of their teens, 
they were assured of the position wealth secures. 
As to whether they would maintain it by worth of 
character, that remains to be proved ; but I will not 
anticipate. 

From the time Adolph Parret decided to set- 
tle in N , he had used his riches with a lib- 

eral hand, and it was no wonder his home was 
known by the title of Parret House for miles and 
miles around. It had been his pleasure, too, to 
transform the southern part of the old homestead 
into, as near as possible, a likeness to the chateau 
in southern France where his early days had been 
spent. But with strange persistence, Prudence, while 
loving at heart, was resolute in her determination 
that no foreign element should invade the northern 
part, or what she termed the front, of the house. Thus 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


23 


she stamped a look of contradiction on the merely 
exterior part of her home, which in the interior 
was still more evident. 

And now a word as to Adolph Parret, those 
days. I find no journal extract from which to cull 
it, but there is a portrait hanging over the mantel 
in the north parlor, which is said to be a striking 
likeness of his outer man, and which is rarely full 
of hints of the inner. So marked is the charm of 
that pictured face, one immediately understands 
the out-going love of Prudence for the young 
stranger, even though to a close student there is 
much in it which tells of one lacking in traits that 
would make him a life-lasting hero. 

It represents a refined, aristocratic man, in age 
somewhere between twenty-five and thirty ; the 
upper part of the face decidedly handsome; the 
eyes dark, and with a look of power in them ; the 
brow high and broad, and the head well poised. 
All this gives a certain effect of fineness and finish, 
though the lower part of the countenance is not so 
well developed, there being an undefined weakness 
about it — the lips thin ; and the chin somewhat 
receding. Nevertheless, as I said, only one pos- 
sessed of quick intuition, or a well-trained eye, 
would detect these contradictory elements, which 
suggest a duality of nature that makes a keen ob- 


24 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


server turn from the portrait with a feeling of dis- 
appointment, if not actual distrust. 

And yet, in justice, one is forced to ask: “ Did 
those subtle lines about the mouth reveal more 
than the stamp of nationality ? ” — or were they 
traced there by the influence of the early training, 
which in France and Italy, at that time, taught a 
child first tact and self control, and then, as though 
of secondary importance, frankness and truth — thus 
early implanting a certain insincerity and worldly 
wisdom contrary to the principle that Truth, in 
word, thought, and deed, is the only sure founda- 
tion on which to build up character? It was not till 
after the birth of their first child that Prudence rec- 
ognized this lack of entire genuineness in her hus- 
band ; but when once her eyes were opened to it, 
they were never shut again. 

But it is not the story of the parents, but of the 
sons, I am to tell, and already I have hinted enough 
to give an impression of the influences that would 
be apt to surround young children whose father and 
mother viewed life from stand-points so widely dif- 
ferent ; and yet they were both fine types of their 
own nationality, religion, and culture, hence both 
had power to exert an abiding and formative in- 
fluence over their sons, even though the lads were 
so young when they were left orphans. 


III. 


C HARACTER is not ready-made, but created, 
bit by bit, and day by day.” The truth 
of this statement we all know, and yet no one 
has ever yet been able to explain the subtle process 
by which memory gathers her harvest of life-lasting 
recollections ; holding some of but trifling import- 
ance in a firm clasp, and letting fall ungarnered 
others of priceless value. But thus it is that the 
law of the power of “ little things ” asserts itself in 
the history of our minds and souls ; as it does in the 
mere matter of material existence. 

The mother of the Parret brothers was a woman 
to heed this truth, and yet with her children, she 
trampled on its first manifestation, which has to do 
with a child’s receiving of impressions, while still 
too young to define them into definite forms. She 
fondly loved both the little lads, and she had a 
Puritan sense of justice which forbade the show- 
ing of partiality by word or deed ; yet in her inmost 
heart she knew her affection centred with peculiar 
tenderness around the elder, Victor. And a child 
is so quick to read even mute signs, the boy Victor 

(25) 


26 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

knew this, too, and so did the baby-brother, Nathan, 
even before he had uttered his first spoken word. 

Thus it happened that only a twelvemonth of 
earthly life taught him that his was a second place 
in his mother’s heart, and his baby-soul cried out for 
an equal one. I do not think he ever craved to be 
first, certainly not with any desire born of rivalship ; 
it was equality he claimed, with the strength of a 
strong nature, and this was manifested in other 
ways than those which had to do with his mother. 
Even in early childhood it was evident, in his plays, 
and later in school and college life, in the resolute 
purpose which made him unwilling to be left be- 
hind, whether the race were mental or athletic. 

It was a trait to cause suffering, and yet it was a 
great safeguard to Nathan Parret, for it led him to 
follow as guide, or accept as master, only those who 
were leaders in their different pursuits. In home-life, 
too, it held control, and when a young child, instinct- 
ively, he seemed to know — in matters that had to 
do with mental knowledge and culture — it was from 
his father he must seek aid ; while for the solving 
of the moral questions which even then perplexed 
the boy, he turned to his mother for counsel, and 
she did not fail to inculcate truth as the key-note of 
spiritual strength, neither did she fail to enforce the 
foundation-principles of the doctrines then holding 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


27 


sway in New England ; and if some seeds did fall 
on stony ground, others took root and sprang up, 
for his mother’s influence was always a power in 
Nathan’s life. Indeed her only failure, so far as 
this boy went, was in her undue fondness for his 
brother; and that increased as the stream of dividing 
sympathies widened between herself and her hus- 
band, till she became almost blind in her love for 
Victor. 

It is a singular fact that some women, morally 
strong in many other points, will thus weakly centre 
their affection on one object with an intensity so 
absorbing that, at last, it fails to distinguish the 
difference between idealizing and idolizing. And 
thus love, the most blessed and blessingful of all 
attributes, becomes perverted into the most harmful. 
For the affection which makes idols of our loved 
ones rivets chains about them, keeping them, in a 
certain way, slaves to our own level ; while the love 
which idealizes is like a voice urging the loved one 
to soar up and on, by aspiration and deed, far be- 
yond our level, even to the life which is perfect 
freedom. You know the freedom I mean ; that 
held in the Bible verse, “ I walk at liberty, because 
I keep Thy laws.” 

This is why, in the best love, the affection called 
forth is alwavs for the ideal in advance of the actual, 


28 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


for “ the earnest expectation of the creature waiteth 
for the revealing of the sons of God but mean- 
while, the mount we have to climb 

“ Is such, that 

At the beginning down below it’s toilsome, 

And aye the more one climbs the less it hurts.’* 

To return to Prudence and her absorbing love 
for Victor — certainly, it did clip the wings of the 
boy’s soul in a hundred ways that only the after- 
years revealed. And yet by strangers, from child- 
hood on to manhood, he was apt to be thought 
more winning than Nathan ; and so he was, in per- 
sonal appearance and easy grace of manner and 
speech. For he inherited, in feature and figure, and 
mind too, many of the most attractive characteristics 
of his parents, that could not fail to please : even 
though one straightway detected in him other 
traits that were as contradictory as the contradic- 
tions that pervaded his home. 

This contradictoriness marked Nathan, also, but 
in him its outward manifestation was modified by 
traits so strongly national that the old folk about 
N were wont to say : “ The lad is Squire Wol- 

cott over again ! ” But those old folk only judged 
from the outside; and if Squire Wolcott could have 
seen the heart and known the workings of this, his 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


2 9 

youngest grandson’s, mind, he would hardly have 
recognized the likeness. 

In fact, Nathan was, in many points, very like his 
father; he possessed the same patience in over- 
coming difficulties, and the same intense love for 
nature, and beauty of form and color. But he had 
not the same versatility of temperament, that seemed 
to have centred in Victor, whose suppleness of mind, 
combined \yith something like wariness, was a never- 
ceasing cause of irritation to straightforward, out- 
spoken Nathan. 

It was not that Victor often told an actual false- 

f 

hood, but rather thati^ he had a facility in giving 
impressions according to his own wishes, and a 
ready use of language that could make a word- 
picture as easily as the photographer catches a sun- 
type, only with not the same truth of likeness in 
detail. 

Nevertheless, while Nathan was lacking in ease 
of utterance, and quick imaginings in anticipating 
events or relating boyish experiences, he was the 
one most apt to appreciate sentiment, though he 
was entirely free from sentimentality. And the 
hazy, dream-like mental atmosphere which often 
surrounded Victor, and which held a half-real, half- 
emotional delight for him, Nathan banished from 
his mind as speedily as the mist of dawn vanishes 


30 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


before sunrise; for his idea of enjoyment, as well as 
his instinctive methods of thought, were both thor- 
oughly after the New England type. Even as a 
child, he never knew the sunny abandonment to 
pleasure that marked Victor, for, when most happy, 
he was always somewhat grave and restrained in 
expression of delight. It was as though he felt the 
dignity of the freedom that had cost his country 
so hard a struggle, and that made the moral nature 
mean so much to those stalwart men, and brave 
women whom he called ancestors. 

And yet — and here again we are met by a con- 
tradiction — his temperament was decidedly poetic, 
which must always involve feeling through the 
emotions and imagination, and this he did ; hence 
his tendency to go to extremes. While another pro- 
nounced trait in this hero of our story was, that 
nothing ever escaped his notice ; for when he was a 
mere baby-boy, his mother often felt that he read 
the thought in her mind before it found expression 
in words. 

In appearance he was strikingly like Squire Wol- 
cott. Indeed, it is not often a young face so re- 
sembles an older one, for to look at the portrait of 
the Squire was almost like seeing the boy himself. 
It hung in the north parlor, opposite the one of 
Adolph Parret which I have already described, and 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


31 


it would be hard to find two portraits more unlike, 
and yet both possessing individualities so strong 
and so full of what goes to make a man interesting 
in character, as well as in features. 

At the first glance, the Squire’s would not sug- 
gest a handsome man, for in expression it is some- 
what too stern, and while the forehead is high, it is 
slightly receding ; indeed, the whole face is long 
and thin, the cheek-bones prominent and chin 
pointed, but, unlike Adolph Parret’s countenance, 
the lower part is stronger than the upper. In 
the matter of dress and general bearing, there is 
also an evidence of different social surroundings, 
for the formal, stiff propriety that pervaded the de- 
tails of Squire Wolcott’s costume is quite unlike 
the elegant nonchalance of the Frenchman’s. And 
yet, after a second look, though they were only pic- 
tures, one felt a sense of trust in the plain man that 
the other failed to inspire. 

But I am hardly fair in calling Squire Wolcott a 
plain man, with the light shining from his eyes as 
it does in that picture. Eyes that are large and 
keen, and singularly beautiful in color ; and it was 
the eyes that made one at once think of Nathan, 
for his eyes were the beauty of his face — in that he 
was like his mother ; and I think it was this simi- 
larity of expression that caused the town-people to 


32 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


call him “ Nathan Wolcott,” which he keenly resent- 
ed, for with the peculiar perversity of human nature 
his family pride centred around the Parrets, and he 
clung with warmth to his French ancestry. While 
with Victor it was just the reverse ; for he, though 
French by name, character, and temperament, held 
with steadfast loyalty to all that proclaimed his 
kinship to America. 

His father also filled a place in Nathan’s heart that 
was haloed with an admiration that he in no such 
full measure accorded to the mother, to whom Vic- 
tor gave his chief love ; and this admiration and af- 
fection for the parent least like himself in principle 
and entire genuineness, is, to my mind, one of the 
most contradictory parts of Nathan Parret’s charac- 
ter. Though why should it be, when the impulse to 
admire our opposite is so universal it has become a 
fact as well established as that clouds herald rain ? 

Then, too, Nathan’s very sincerity, while it made 
him sharply vexed with anything like want of truth- 
fulness, made him, at the same time, free from sus- 
picion ; for, not knowing deceit in his own heart, he 
never thought to seek it in others, certainly not in 
the father, who died while he was still a child. As 
to the why we are attracted by those unlike our- 
selves, perhaps it is explained by the simple fact 
that no one likes to see self duplicated, even in a 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


33 


shadowy, undefined way. For one’s own person- 
ality is something sacred, since to it our Lord 
has entrusted the soul, of which, however marred 
and sin-stained it may become, He yet has said: 
“ Make it in the image of God.” 

And now we come to a place always a bit difficult 
in telling the story of a life. For it is hard to know 
just when to pass from outline to detailed record. 
But I think I have suggested enough of the influences 
which surrounded Nathan Parret’s early years for us 
to leave them, and pass on to the time when Victor 
was twenty-three years old, and Nathan had come to 
the gateway that opens for youth to enter on the re- 
sponsibilities of manhood — his twenty-first birthday. 

So we will begin our real story now, in the spring- 
time of his life — in the springtime of Nature’s 
season, too, for the calendar record reads April the 
twentieth. April ! — it is the month of precious 
prophecy and promise, all pulsing with waking life, 
hence a blessed season to call one’s birthday-time ; 
for in April we only think of hope and progress. 
Springtime ! — we say the words as smilingly as 
robins trill sweet notes of song ; and yet when we 
use them as a type of life, they must apply either 
to buds that blossom and ripen into fruit, or to 
buds that blight and fall. 


IV. 


ILL he be a different Nathan to-morrow ?” 



It was little Patty Gaylord who thus 


asked, and her eyes were full of eager question- 
ing, as she lifted her gaze to the face of the tall, 
grave, middle-aged man — her father, the Reverend 
Abner Gaylord, who ever since Nathan could re- 
member had been pastor of the village church. 

The question was a natural outgrowth of the 
child’s understanding of her father’s words to the 
young man, for they had all been of the solemn im- 
portance of the morrow, which was his twenty-first 
birthday. 

Nathan smiled at Patty’s query, though it fell 
with something of sombre weight on his heart, and 
in an undefined way he had been wondering much 
the same thing. For this twenty-first birthday of 
his was not only to mark entrance into manhood, 
but also his assuming of the independent control 
of large wealth ; and with more of interest than he 
would have been willing to own, he listened for Mr. 
Gaylord’s reply. 

But Patty did not wait for it, for before the tall. 


( 34 ) 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


35 


slender figure of her sister Hester came in sight, 
she caught the sound of approaching steps, and 
flitted away to meet her, darting swiftly, as a bird 
wings its way from bough to bough, across the “ door- 
yard ” — the familiar name, in those days, for the 
stretch of land between house and street, — a grassy 
plot, usually divided by a narrow walk, on either 
side of which lilac and syringa-bushes were wont 
to grow. 

By her sudden departure, Patty unconsciously 
gave her father the very opportunity he had been 
wanting for a conversation alone with Nathan, and 
with no delay he availed himself of it, saying: 
“You are well equipped, my young friend, to 
enter on the warfare of life; you start a soldier, 
armed with the weapons of a liberal education ; you 
have wealth, and strength, too ; but how about the 
spiritual armor?” — and the good minister laid his 
hand kindly on the youth’s broad shoulder, as he 
added: “Have you the shield of Faith?” — and 
knowing, as Mr. Gaylord did, the compass of Na- 
than’s mind, and his poetic turn of thought, he 
linked with St. Paul’s enumeration of a Christian 
warrior’s armor the inspiring verse from John’s gos- 
pel which reveals that the “ sword of the Spirit ” — 
“the Word of God ” — is the Christ, the “Captain 
of Salvation.” 


3 ^ 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


As he ceased speaking, a hush fell between the 
two men, while the color deepened on Nathan’s al- 
ready flushed face. He was moved — plainly the 
minister saw that — and after a minute it led him to 
press the subject with increased earnestness. “ I 
urge' you,” he said, “to accept this very day your 
high birthright, which is the power of submitting 
your will to God’s will. It will cost a struggle, my 
lad, though, for that matter, strife there must be 
either way ; but make no mistake in the Ruler you 
choose, because there are two voices calling you, 
and both call to liberty — the one, Christ’s call to 
the true freedom of a son of God ; the other, Satan’s 
call to the false liberty which he misrepresents as 
freeing a man from the solemn responsibility of the 
moral law — an impossibility, for ‘ that law is per- 
fect,’ and while it encompasses the duty of the 
Christian, it no less encompasses the worldling.” 

Mr. Gaylord’s way of putting this was somewhat 
new to Nathan, and standing there in the strength 
and vigor of his young manhood, he felt a thrill of 
eager longing for conflict. “ Try my strength ” was 
in fact the cry of his soul, and God heard it. And 
later on He did try it ; and then Nathan had to learn 
the only real strength is that made perfect in our 
weakness, and it was an humbling lesson. Never- 
theless, “ what makes night within a man’s soul may 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


3 7 

reveal stars.” And it was the leading of a star which 
first guided the wise men to Christ. 

Perhaps it was as well that at that climax-part of 
the conversation Mrs. Gaylord came hurrying out 
to the porch to welcome Nathan home. At least 
it was thus her husband said when, after the youth’s 
departure, she regretted having interfered with what 
she felt had been no ordinary interview. To com- 
fort her, Mr. Gaylord had also said: “We must 
leave it with God, my dear, and prayer will reach 
Him.” 

That truth was the anchorage of this minister. 
He never doubted that God heard, however long the 
answer tarried, and so he never made shipwreck of his 
faith. Yet Mr. Gaylord was a man who knew much 
of struggle in his spiritual life, for he firmly believed 
“ faith without works is dead ”; and by nature he 
was not a working man in the sense demanded in a 

parish like that of N township. He loved too 

well his books and study for it not to cost him a daily 
effort to go in and out among the people of his 
charge; and it often required all Mrs. Gaylord’s 
ready tact to supply her husband’s deficiencies in 
this respect, even though she was a motherly, warm- 
hearted woman, always glad over the joys of others, 
and with a ready sympathy for all things in pain, 
from a bird’s broken wing up to an aching heart. 


38 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


To be sure, sometimes, like all impulsive people, 
she was lacking in the delicate perception that 
knows just when to give utterance to sympathy — a 
trait very marked in her daughter Hester, who 
never made a mistake in such matters. 

The two girls, Hester and Patty, were the only 
children left in the Parsonage home out of a 
flock of seven ; and Mrs. Gaylord was so grateful for 
the Love which had spared her these blessings, out 
of thankfulness for them she dried her tears for 
those taken, and never lost her cheerfulness. Yet, 
she was a mother, and mothers never forget ; al- 
ways, though smiles were on her face, she knew 
there were empty places in the home. And now 
and then, just between the daylight and the dark, 
entering the sitting-room suddenly, Mr. Gaylord 
found her standing by the eastward window, look- 
ing out in the dim light toward the village burial- 
ground. And though in the routine of daily life 
she was a prosaic little woman, at such rare minutes 
she would lean her head against her husband’s en- 
folding arm, and look up into his face with eyes 
bright as Patty’s, while she whispered : “ The stone 
is rolled away.” And he knew what she meant, for 
love understands even fragmentary words; then, 
too, her words were true, for, while there were 
graves in their hearts, yet they did not seek their 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


39 

living among the dead. No; for in that home 
Christ had risen ! 

It is strange how we all, like Mrs. Gaylord, have 
two sides to our nature — one sweet and tender, 
which our best-beloved know ; the other just the 
plain, every-day self the world knows. This last 
was the side that greeted Nathan Parret, to whom 
Mrs. Gaylord, spite her genial cordiality, seemed a 
bit inconsequent. 

“ Nathan, you here ! ” thus she exclaimed, adding : 
“ So it was you who came by the mail-coach ? and 
Victor — what of him ? Any news yet of the Sea - 
Giill? a stanch sailor, so reported, but according to 
my reckoning a week overdue — thirty-three days 
already from shore to shore ; time enough, I should 
say, for any craft, and being a captain’s daughter I 
ought to know.” 

All this without a pause, and more, ready to fol- 
low, full well Nathan knew, which accounted for his 
sudden decision to hasten home, where Aunt Mandy 
would be watching for him; — “Aunt Mandy” being 
the name by which Miss Amanda Barstow had been 
called by Victor and Nathan Parret ; ever since their 
early childhood, when she came to their home to 
fill the place of half-housekeeper and half-nurse 
during one of Mrs. Parret’s frequent illnesses, 
which she did so acceptably, the temporary arrange- 


40 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


ment became permanent, she staying “to do a 
mother’s part,” as she said, for the lads after they 
were left orphans. 

Most faithfully had Miss Amanda done this ; for 
if sometimes she had been stern, she was always just, 
and Nathan loved her with the warmth of his warm 
heart. In truth she made “ home ” for him, for home 
is the heart that holds us dear, and whose welcome is 
ever ready; and Miss Amanda did hold Nathan as 
her chief earthly treasure, though she never thought 
of telling him so. She always had a welcome for 
him, too, and yet there was scant show of prepara- 
tion beyond an extra loaf-cake and a vase of flowers 
set on the table ; because, as Miss Amanda reflected : 
“ The boy was as fond of flowers and growing things 
as bees are of honey.” 

When once he said he must go, Nathan made no 
delay over his farewell, though H ester and little Patty 
had not yet returned. And it was for Hester he 
had asked when he knocked at the Parsonage door. 
He had a fine figure, and as he walked swiftly, 
with his firm, decided step, up the village street, 
Mr. and Mrs. Gaylord watched him admiringly. In 
his right hand he carried an old French valise of 
his father’s, the red leather of which had somewhat 
faded, and the brass nail-heads grown dull ; but, if 
a thing was useful, Nathan was too much of a New 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


41 

Englander to put it aside because it looked a bit 
old and worn. 

When he reached the outskirts of the village, he 
sprang lightly over a stone wall that marked the 
boundary of his own woodland and the road which 
led to the chateau side of Parret House. But though 
he walked rapidly, Patty, returning with Hester 
from the village store, caught a glimpse of him and 
of the red valise, which made a patch of color as he 
swung it back and forth in the sunshine ; and the 
sight brought to her memory the question she had 
not waited to hear answered. And just as Nathan 
leaped the wall, she repeated it, calling, in the clear, 
ringing note of her child’s voice : “ Nathan ! Na- 
than ! will you be a different Nathan to-morrow?” 

Would he be? 


N. 


V. 


N ATHAN could not shake off the influence of 
Patty’s question, prefacing as it did, and then 
so closely following her father’s counsel. And as 
he entered the wood-road, he seemed to hear it 
blended in with the sounds with which the air was 
pulsing, for at that “ waking-up ” time of the year, 
every New England dweller knows the world is full 
of music. 

The brook was widened into a swiftly-running 
creek by the inrushing of a hundred ice-freed stream- 
lets that flowed into it from up among the hills, and 
it went on its way singing the song of many waters ; 
while the wind that stirred the tree-boughs sent a 
rustling through the budding branches, and waken- 
ed a soft sighing among the pines. It played too 
with the tufts of pussy-willows and catkins that 
tasselled the alder bushes till every one seemed 
a-chime with joy as the early songsters, the first- 
comers of the spring — robins and bluebirds — flitted 
in among the tangle. 

Sensitive as he was to every influence of nature, 
all this served to intensify Nathan’s already keenly- 
(42) 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


43 


aroused sense of the profound earnestness of ex- 
istence, which never had thrilled his soul as it did 
that day, for never had he felt the strong-beating 
pulse of his youth as he did then. 

Involuntarily he took off the student’s cap he 
wore, and pushed his short, curly hair back from 
his forehead, as though the touch of the wind were 
a baptism of strength. And he drew a long breath 
of exultant gladness as he looked up through the 
openings of the trees, and caught a glimpse of the 
deep blue of the sky, across which white cloudlets 
floated, like good thoughts in a maiden’s soul — such 
a soul as Hester Gaylord’s, this was Nathan’s unde- 
fined simile. And then, still gazing skyward, al- 
most as though in expectation of some audible 
reply, he spoke aloud, saying: “Tell me, what does 
it hold, this future wrapped in my opening life?” 
But no reply came, for the future is a silent book, 
and though its every page is written full, it is ever 
a problem beyond the power of mortal solving. 
And he knew this, even as he called aloud for an 
answer. He knew, too, the only safe way of start- 
ing on the untried path was to put on the armor 
of which Mr. Gaylord had spoken. Nevertheless, 
he was strong of will, and he held back from the 
full surrender, acceptance of that spiritual armor in- 
volved. 


44 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


Meanwhile, the day was waning, the morrow was 
drawing near, and, verily, it would dawn on a dif- 
ferent Nathan ; though little Patty’s eyes, bright as 
they were, would not note a hint of the difference. 
For spiritual changes are wont to be subtle, and 
somewhat slow in stamping their impress on the 
face of youth. Though truly, I believe, they do 
every one leave an impress. Think how sorrow will 
draw a furrow across a man’s brow, and joy kindle 
a light in his eye ; how evil in the heart writes its 
story on the face, and goodness tells its tale, por- 
traying each trait, till, as time deepens the lines, we 
come to read their meaning as easily as we read the 
pages of a printed book. 

The change that came to Nathan Parret was not 
because he made a definite acceptance of false 
liberty, but rather because he did not accept the 
true freedom offered. He was willing enough to 
obey in his own strength and in his own way, and 
in that strength he did determine to win victory in 
the on-coming years. For his mind was full of 
high aspirations for intellectual work, that culmi- 
nated in visions of brave deeds and glory-winning 
conquests. But spite this the end would be the 
story, old as Solomon’s words of wisdom, — disap- 
pointment and failure, — for there is no way to 
follow Christ, save by the time-worn path, the law ; 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


45 


and those ten upward steps, each inscribed with a 
command, no one ever yet trod in their own un- 
aided strength. 

When Nathan left the woods it was nearing sun- 
set, and the long slants of golden light stretched 
across the meadow lot, reaching on to the chateau- 
gate. As he expected, Miss Amanda was on the 
watch for him, though somewhat stealthily, for she 
was not a person to let her emotions appear on the 
surface, and yet her heart was overflowing with 
love for the brothers. In fact, her imagination was 
as active in castle-building for their future as if she 
had been a true-born romancer, rather than the 
thrifty manager of Parret House. 

It being her way to strive to hide any manifes- 
tation of unwonted tenderness, when Nathan came 
in sight she called, in almost a harsh voice : “ Where 
have you been loitering ? the coach passed the 
North-side a good two hours ago.” 

For reply, she found herself warmly kissed by the 
tall youth, and, spite of a repelling gesture on her 
part, the glance of her eyes, as they rested on Na- 
than’s comely face, softened, and grew tender as a 
mother’s, and she entered the house with his strong 
arm encircling her angular figure, for Nathan had 
no fear of Aunt Mandy’s frowns and sharp words ; 


46 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

from a baby he had read her heart aright, and he 
knew it was a love-warm place. 

Those were not the days when much time was 
spent over the family meals, and scarcely more 
than an hour after his arrival he had partaken of 
the early supper, had said a kindly word to the farm 
hands, and taken a hasty look at the chief favorites 
of the stable and barnyard. He had a strong man’s 
fondness for the horned cattle, the swift-footed 
steeds, the sheep and tender lambs, as well as for 
the vast family of feathered tribes that were counted 
as farm stock ; and, all this accomplished, he was 
ready for the long, quiet talk with Aunt Mandy, 
which he well knew she claimed as her part of the 
general pleasure over his return home. 

With the coming on of dark, the wind blew with 
a chilly freshness that made the fire burning in the 
huge, open chimney-place a welcome sight to Na- 
than, as he entered the north parlor, — a room all 
unlike the stereotyped New England sitting-room 
of that day, for it was large, and on the walls there 
hung, besides the portraits of which I have already 
told, several oil-paintings, of real merit as portrayals 
of French landscape. The furniture, also, was 
massive, and gave a stately, old-time air to the 
room, which was increased by the heavy folds of 
the crimson moreen curtains that were drawn close 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


47 


across all the windows save one. It was through 
that one that a pair of bright, dark eyes looked, not 
more than ten minutes after Nathan and Aunt 
Mandy were seated for their evening chat. 

Nathan felt he had much to tell ; and to Miss 
Amanda he could speak with freedom of the hopes 
and ambitions stirring his young heart. Perhaps it 
was this that gave so grave a look to his face ; and 
seeing it, the smiling eyes pressed close to the 
window-pane as they peered in, could not long 
control a laugh from pealing out on the still even- 
ing air in a burst of merriment that, with no other 
warning, proclaimed Victor’s arrival, unheralded 
and unannounced, after the manner of his boyhood, 
which had always been to appear when least 
expected. 

The fact of his being there was simple enough. 
Mrs. Gaylord had been right ; it was time for the 
Sea-Gull to come to port, and she had sailed into 
the sheltering harbor of New York bay at sunrise 
of the day before. 

Victor, with no delay, had hastened homeward, 
and coming the last half of the way by post, he had 
alighted at the village inn not long after Nathan 
had left the Parsonage. With his natural eagerness 
after more of sensation than mere ordinary pleasure 
was apt to yield, he planned walking from the vil- 


48 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


lage straight to Parret House, and thus coming, 
with all the zest of a surprise, into the quiet of 
Aunt Amanda’s twilight hour. But, as he passed 
the Parsonage, Patty caught sight of him, and at 
the same time he saw her little face, with its merry 
blue eyes, rosy cheeks, and short clustering rings 
of sunny brown hair, and through the open window 
he heard the note of a high-pitched, childish voice 
calling Hester to come and see the stranger. Hear- 
ing the words, he straightway entered the Parson- 
age door, which, during his childhood and youth, 
had been open for him to come and go at his own 
free will. 

Hester, all unconscious of what Patty’s summons 
would lead to, advanced quietly out of the deepen- 
ing shadows that were gathering in the room, com- 
ing into the full light of the western window as 
Victor opened the sitting-room door. And some- 
how, Victor Parret, all through the after-years of 
his life, could at any moment, by merely closing 
his eyes, see the picture of this simple Puritan girl, 
as she stood in her calm, gentle sweetness, with the 
eager child half-hiding behind her tall form. 

It is not an easy task to describe Hester Gaylord 
— she had no beauty, either by claim of regular 
features or brilliancy of color, and yet there was a 
quiet graciousness and grace pervading her which 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


49 


had a more lasting charm than mere beauty, and it 
was doubtless this which gave her power to in- 
fluence Victor’s imagination ; it was so in contrast 
to his own restless temperament and changing 
moods, it was to him as the repose of moonlight 
after a day of turmoil. Even at that hour of his 
arrival home, after three years’ absence, he so felt 
it that he lingered in the Parsonage parlor till the 
last ray of sunlight had faded, twilight deepened, 
and Mrs. Gaylord entered to light the home-made 
candles that, like tall sentinels in white, stood 
guard at each corner of the high mantel-shelf. She 
warmly greeted Victor, for he, like Nathan, had al- 
ways been a favorite at the Parsonage, and she 
could scarcely stem her tide of questions for long 
enough to give her husband an opportunity to add 
a serious word to his welcome — a word at which 
Victor evinced sufficient impatience for Hester to 
lift her calm gaze to his handsome face, and hence 
she encountered a look which straightway made 
her own eyes shine. For it bewildered Hester; she 
was a simple-hearted girl, and though she had been 
encompassed by* love all her life, that look was the 
first glimpse she had ever received of what the 
world calls admiration. And later, when sitting in 
the shadowy light of her own quiet room, waiting 
for Patty to fall asleep, it came back to her, and 
4 


50 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


then she smiled. For thoughts of the brothers, 
when she and they were children, filled a large place 
in her memory. Through the evening, too, as she 
sat busy with needlework, her thoughts were still 
of Victor and Nathan, and at night she dreamed 
that Nathan called her, and then Victor’s voice 
sounded louder, and seemed to drown Nathan’s. 

In the strange confusion of sleep she tossed rest- 
lessly on her pillow, as though undecided which 
call to answer. When at last she woke, it was with 
a sense of disturbance before unknown to her 
quiet soul ; but being a maiden of a healthy nature, 
quite free from sickly, sentimental fancies, by noon- 
time she had forgotten the dream, or, rather, it had 
hidden away in some odd corner of her mind. And 
there it stayed for long; at least long, as youth 
counts time. 


VI. 


r pHE rule of sharp contrasts which seemed to 
**■ hover, like a star of destiny, over the Parret 
brothers, in its encompassing of their material sur- 
roundings, as well as in the development of their 
characters, did not fail to assert itself on the morn- 
ing of Nathan’s twenty-first birthday. 

Even Nature was all unlike the yesterday, for 
what had been a soft, balmy breeze, redolent with 
the hint of spring flowers and blossoming fruit- 
trees, had given place to a chill east wind ; while 
across the sky heavy masses of billowy, vaporous 
clouds were piled, one upon another, till there was 
not so much as a patch of blue to be seen. An ill- 
omen, according to superstitious folk, among whom 
Miss Amanda Barstow would have ranked as a 
burning and shining light, had she belonged to an 
earlier age and a less practical race. 

Unconsciously, Patty Gaylord echoed Miss Aman- 
da’s thought, though the child had no knowledge 
of either superstition or omen, and with her it was 
an undefined sense of foreboding, blended with 
keen regret, that clouds, rather than sunshine, held 

(5i) 


52 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


sway at the dawning of a day she had looked for- 
ward to as belonging to Nathan, and which was to 
be celebrated — at least, the latter part of it — by a 
visit to Parret House, where Miss Barstow had 
planned, in honor of Nathan’s coming of age, a 
“ tea-drink,” the then popular mode of entertain- 
ment in that region of country, and her invitation 
to the minister’s family included little Patty, who 
was a special favorite with the kind-hearted spinster. 

It vras to be an occasion graced by the presence 

of the leading families in and about N . Judge 

Benson, his wife, and daughter ; Squire Martin and 
daughters ; the village doctor ; the Blakes and 
Mungers ; Emmersons and Endicotts, with a score 
of others, were all bidden, and were all coming. 
And the affair was so important to Miss Amanda 
that, for a full week before its advent, she had been 
in a constant flutter of preparation, aided by her 
handmaids, Martha, the farmer’s daughter, and 
Ruth, a black-eyed girl from over the hills. Hester 
Gaylord, too, had been called in to help, and more 
than one morning she had spent in Miss Amanda’s 
storeroom, busy over the weighing and measuring 
of the ingredients needed for the various com- 
pounds under preparation ; a task Miss Amanda re- 
garded as too important to be intrusted to any 
hands less skillful than Hester’s, and over her do- 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


53 


ings she kept a general oversight. For she had no 
idea of yielding the responsibility, even in minor 
details, of her place as queen among the busy bees 
of her domestic hive, in which no drone was allowed 
to loiter, not even a little personage like five-year- 
old Patty, whose hands were deemed large and 
strong enough for raisin-seeding, if for no more im- 
portant work. 

It was no wonder, with all this unwonted excite- 
ment filling the usually quiet atmosphere of Patty’s 
world, that when she opened her eyes to find the 
morning dull and gray, with rain and sleet beating 
against the window-panes, her unrestrained impulse 
was to find fault with the storm, as though it were 
a voluntary thing that had unkindly chosen that 
very day to cover the sky with clouds, and fill the 
air with moisture which was rapidly forming an icy 
coating on bush and tree-twig. Then, too, Patty’s 
gaze could not span the hours till noontime ; thus 
she did not know the very rain-drops with which 
she found fault would, when the sun broke through 
the clouds, make the landscape all ablaze with the 
shining glory of their icy diamonds and crystals, 
the beauty of which, words can no more than hint. 
It was like looking on some king’s palace, where 
every corridor was hung with sparkling, glittering 
jewels. 


54 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


As Miss Amanda stood in the open doorway, 
gazing out, with Nathan by her side, she had good 
reason to be thankful for the superstitious element 
in her nature, for without it she would not have 
been so quick to interpret the mute language of 
emblem and type, which straightway led her to 
claim the beauty and the glory of that noontide 
hour as a harbinger of the glory and success that 
would crown Nathan’s future. And after all, she 
said to herself, “with such a noonday crowning, 
what matter if there be a stormy morning ? ” What 
matter, indeed, when we remember unless there be 
storms in life there can be no rainbows. “ I do 
set my bow in the cloud, saith the Lord ; when I 
bring a cloud over the earth, then the bow shall be 
seen in the cloud.” 

All this is a wide wandering from Nathan’s waking. 
The thought that greeted his return to conscious- 
ness was Patty’s question ; and he could not blind 
the eye of his soul to the truth — that it was an- 
swered, and that he was not the same Nathan who, 
with a heart as free from care as little Patty’s, had 
unlatched the Parsonage gate only yesterday. 

Full well he knew, too, what made the difference, 
and it gave him a sense of dissatisfaction with self, 
even though self had never seemed of so much im- 
portance before, — for, had he not of his own free 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


55 


will chosen self for his guide and master? That 
emotion of dissatisfaction was the beginning of the 
spiritual unrest which cast a shadow over so many 
of the years of Nathan Parret’s early manhood, 
and yet it was his great safeguard. It was an 
answer to the prayer Mr. Gaylord had felt so sure 
the God of prayer would hear and answer, for Nathan 
never lost the memory, though it often lay dor- 
mant, that his soul had reached out after an ideal 
manhood. Though he narrowed that ideal to the 
level of what self could attain, — that lowest tide- 
mark by which any of us can measure progress, for 

“ A man’s reach should excel his grasp, 

Or what’s Heaven for ? ” — 

At the same time, the fact of a once-recognized 
ideal served to stimulate him. It roused, too, his 
recognition of the infinite possibilities wrapped up 
in the sealed book of his future. 

But all this, and the path by which it led, — the 
striving and the failure, the false success and the 
real success, followed by midnight darkness, out of 
which at last the light of day dawned, — it took long 
years to accomplish, and we are but just starting 
on the history of his soul, whose wings, spite that 
undertone heart-beat of unrest, were on that birth- 
day morning strong for upward flight as the wings 


56 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 

of a young eagle, — the bird that soars skyward, with 
never a fear of finding air too pure and clarified for 
his unaided flight to pierce. Unaided — that is the 
secret of the eagle's downward course, the drooping 
wing and vanquished strength, — verily, a type of 
the life of man. So true a type, poets have sung 
it, preachers have preached it. It is as common- 
place as the daisies that grow by the roadside. 
Perhaps this is the reason we pass it by unnoticed 
and unheeded, save in those rare moments when 
we know there is something more in life than mere 
living, something more in flowers than their beauty 
and fragrance — “ consider the lilies," and you will 
catch my meaning. 

I think it was a call from that something that 
summoned Nathan, on his birthday morning, to 
turn from his musing on the vision side of life — 
which is wont to be strongly accentuated by a 
poetic temperament like his, — bidding him seek the 
other side, that had to deal with the every-day mat- 
ters of existence. And he obeyed the summons, 
for God had blessed him with a good share of 
healthy, commonplace sense, and he accepted the 
truth that practical pursuits must consign poetic 
thinking to a secondary place, if a man's life is to 
amount to anything. 

After breakfast Nathan, not heeding the rain, 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


57 


had gone for a brisk walk and hasty look at his 
best-loved haunts among the near woods and hills ; 
when he returned he found Judge Benson and Vic- 
tor waiting for him in the north parlor. As he 
joined them, Judge Benson was explaining some 
intricate point of law that had to do with Squire 
Wolcott’s estate. The Judge was a typical New 
Englander of that time ; tall, thin, angular, his face 
lined with traces of thought and care, his manner 
stiff and somewhat arbitrary, his voice harsh and 
ringing, with that peculiar sharpness that has be- 
come a national inheritance, and yet, withal, his heart 
was full of kindness ; and though he was shrewd to 
drive a bargain, he was as true and honest in prin- 
ciple as the oaks of his native forests were strong 
and masterful among trees. 

That the Judge jarred Victor, Nathan noted be- 
fore he had been with them ten minutes. He 
noted, also, the difference in their appearance, and 
he wondered if he presented as marked a contrast 
to his elegant brother as the County Judge did. 

As for Victor, one could hardly fail to notice 
him ; for at that time he was very handsome, 
very winsome. Nathan smiled with a heart full 
of brotherly pride as he looked at him, leaning 
one arm with an easy grace on the high mantel, 
while the other rested on the head of Major, the 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


53 

shepherd-dog, whose life had kept pace with the 
brothers’. 

“ He is like some picture of a young prince,” Na- 
than thought, for Victor’s clearly-cut features were 
sharply defined against the background of gray rain- 
clouds that were framed in by the window-casement ; 
and when he spoke, it was with an easy fluency, 
unlike the Judge’s and Nathan’s own somewhat 
slow speech. 

Perhaps there was too much of modern free- 
dom about Victor, and absence of the precision in 
which he had been trained, for his manner to be 
altogether pleasant to Nathan ; but he was not 
of a fault-finding disposition, and he had never 
felt the first touch of petty jealousy. It was 
equality for which he had combated from baby- 
hood, and the injustice of being allotted to a 
second place without fair trial that had wounded 
him ; and this was something he was to feel again 
that day. But it did not occur during the morning 
hours — they were devoted to the details of busi- 
ness, to which he applied himself with a quickness 
of perception that won the approbation of Judge 
Benson, who was not over-well pleased with Victor’s 
manner of indolent attention and indifference, 
which were both, to the Judge’s keen eye, assumed 
to hide his eagerness over the settlement of every 
penny’s-worth of value, he setting a store on money, 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


59 


for money’s sake, double that which Nathan felt, 
with all his straightforward questioning of involved 
details. 

Judge Benson was so impressed with the dis- 
similarity of the brothers that, meeting Mr. Gay- 
lord on his way home, he mentioned it, adding, 
“ There is more real worth in one half-sentence ut- 
tered by the younger Parret than in all the high- 
sounding words of the elder.” But the good min- 
ister was not over-keen in the matter of reading 
character, and to him Victor was a comely youth, 
with an attractive manner, the charm of which had 
not .escaped Mr. Gaylord. 

During the discussion on the points of the will 
that had awaited settlement till Nathan attained 
his majority, there had been no word of discord be- 
tween the brothers. But when it came to the divi- 
sion of the old treasures that, from Nathan’s earliest 
recollection, had filled the place of ornaments in 
the home, his heart felt more than one angry beat 
over Victor’s lack of regard for what had been so 
dear to his parents. “ A heap of rubbish ! ” he 
called the glass case containing the birds shot and 
preserved by M. le Conte during his first year of 
American life ; and the curious shells and specimens 
of coral that his mother had kept free from every 
dust-speck, he scorned as only fit for a lumber- 


60 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

room. Hence it happened that Nathan, in the di- 
vision of these things, to secure them from dis- 
respect, gave up more than one piece of old family 
silver marked with the Parret crest. 

And, somehow, the glimpse into Victor’s heart, 
or rather heartlessness, which this part of the set- 
tlement revealed, was like a streamlet of dividing 
sympathy between the brothers. Would it broad- 
en with the increase of years? Such streams 
do grow, till sometimes they stretch like a wide 
sea between children of the same father and mother. 
And yet, spite divided interests, lack of harmony, 
and sympathy in thought and deed, there is that 
in the tie of kindred that makes it, to earnest na- 
tures, a claim stronger than the bond of elective 
friendship, when it demands self-sacrifice and self- 
renunciation for a brother’s or sister’s sake; and 
Nathan Parret had such a nature. It was his birth- 
right, inherited from the Puritan ancestry that 
dated back to the earliest annals of the Wolcotts 
as settlers in the New World of America. 


VII. 


HE time of which I tell was before the advent 



of the precocious modern child. Never- 
theless, though children did not then develop into 
little men and women as speedily as they do now, 
the grave, earnest responsibilities of life were as- 
sumed alike by young men and maidens at an ear- 
lier age ; and love, marriage, and settlement in 
homes of their own by the time their years counted 
not much over twenty, was no unusual event. 

But of all this, except in a dreamy way, Nathan 
Parret had never thought, till the afternoon of his 
twenty-first birthday, — and yet, when the thought 
did come, knocking at the door of his heart and 
mind, he at once bade it enter, for, as he asked 
himself, Why should it not? He had graduated 
from the academical department of College when 
barely nineteen, and was now well on with his 
course of study at the Medical School, from which 
the very next July he expected to receive his degree. 

He had ample means, too, and he smiled as he 
thought of Judge Benson’s statement of the land 
and bank stock that were all his own by a clear 


(61) 


62 a MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

title. These thoughts passed through the youth’s 
mind rapidly, and yet they made a vivid picture, 
even in the moment it took for him to assist Mrs. 
Gaylord, Hester, and little Patty to alight from 
their carryall, the first of the many vehicles that ar- 
rived at Parret House that April day. And in that 
minute, too, Nathan recognized that home meant 
for him the constant companionship of Hester, the 
pervading sense of her gracious presence, and the 
sound of her low voice and rippling laugh. 

He and Hester had been chosen playmates from 
babyhood, and as they passed beyond childhood 
their intimacy had deepened ; thus it was not 
strange that he took it for granted that he was to 
make life’s idyl for her. The possibility that this 
might not be, he was slow to accept, though the 
suggestion of it was one of those quick intuitions 
that had always marked his individuality. A mo- 
ment spanned the impression; it came from the 
look he saw in Victor’s eyes as they rested on 
Hester. It was a glance of admiration much like 
the one she had noted the day before. 

Certainly the young girl was well fitted to call 
forth admiration that hour, for she never had 
looked fairer. She wore a gown of soft gray ma- 
terial, made simply ; her only ornament a knot of 
blue ribbon that fastened the folds of lace that en- 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


63 

circled her slender throat and delicate wrists, from 
which her little hands peeped soft and white, spite 
the fact that there was not a household task too 
difficult for them to deftly accomplish. Her feet, 
too, were tiny as Cinderella’s, and arched as any 
high-born Spanish dame’s. In fact, Hester set at 
naught all traditional theories of high birth. For, 
while she possessed the fine finish and exquisite re- 
pose which we are wont to think comes only to 
those who can trace direct descent from ancestors 
of foremost rank in the mother countries, she could 
point to no heraldic crest, either on her mother’s 
or her father’s side. 

No ; good Mr. Gaylord’s father, and his father 
before him, as far back as they could trace the line 
of descent, told of plain, well-to-do folk, God-fearing 
and man-loving, but not laying claim to any title of 
Mayflower importance, or high position according 
to this world’s nomenclature. 

As for Mrs. Gaylord, she was the daughter of a 
sea-captain, whose parents were among the early set- 
tlers at Bay Point, a colony largely intermingled with 
French refugees of the humbler sort. Doubtless it 
was from ancestry among them that she inherited 
her bright, versatile temperament, which was tem- 
pered by the strong Puritan element dominant in her 
mother’s genealogy. 


64 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

All this proves that Hester’s rare refinement, 
amounting to elegance, was her own, as a free gift 
from the Lord, rather than a birthright inheritance. 
In figure she was graceful, with a supple ease of 
motion, and though, as I said, not beautiful, every 
feature was delicate ; she was fair-haired, and her 
eyes blue, but dark, with a wistful look in them 
that almost amounted to sadness ; her mouth, also, 
though small, and sweet in expression, revealed 
something of pensiveness. Indeed, Hester’s face 
told of a sensitive nature, as quick to feel a discord- 
ant spiritual atmosphere as the mimosa, among 
trees, is quick to feel the approach of a stranger. 

It would be hard to find two friends more unlike 
than Hester Gaylord and her chosen companion, 
Judge Benson’s daughter Nan, the village belle, — 
Nan, who was keen at repartee as she was brilliant 
in appearance. She was small, a brunette, with 
dark, clustering curls, which she wore drawn back 
from her face by a bright ribbon of a rich, warm 
shade of red. Her eyes were black, and flashed 
one minute with fun, the next were full of earnest 
questioning — for youth will question, in whatever 
mould it be cast, either gay or grave. 

Though Nan, Hester, and the Parret brothers 
had been friends from childhood, no shadow had 
ever come between them, except on the few occa- 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 65 


sions when Hester, contrary to what one would 
have expected from her, had taken Victor s part in 
some dispute with Nathan. Thus, even when chil- 
dren, the enigma of love’s outgoing had begun to 
plead for answer. But it is a riddle no one ever 
yet has been able to solve, when it has to do with 
the ‘why’ a woman like Hester Gaylord gives the 
priceless pearl of her affection to a man like Victor 
Parret. Equally strange is it that practical, matter- 
of-fact maidens like Nan Benson will love, with all 
the intensity of their natures, some man who lives 
much in the realm of thought, and who, while he 
may possess the elements of an old-time knight of 
chivalry, is without the encircling romance of that 
early time to cast a mystic glamour over the prosaic 
details of daily life. 

These queries call loudly for solution as we fol- 
low the histories of Victor and Nathan ; for while 
Victor attracted Hester, Nathan was the hero of 
Nan Benson’s good, true heart. But she had a 
New England girl’s pride, and so carefully she 
guarded this secret no one ever guessed it, except 
Miss Amanda, though, as the years came and went, 
many wondered why Nan was the only one un- 
married of the Judge’s six comely daughters. Nan 
herself knew the reason dated from the hour when 
she saw Victor’s gaze rest on Hester, and the 
5 


66 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


shadow that fell across Nathan’s countenance as he, 
too, observed that look. Yes, it was then the rec- 
ognized romance of Nan’s life began ; and yet she 
was merry and chatty and positive, seeming quite 
like herself during the party, and afterward on the 
way home. Neither did Nathan give any outward 
sign that he, also, had met that day one of the crisis 
hours of his life, — a solemn hour to meet, if the 
saying be true that, as the year holds four seasons 
before its perfect round is completed, so the soul 
holds four periods marked by what we may term, 
for lack of a better word, crisis epochs, that test the 
true worth of the four most profound experiences in 
every soul’s life : the religious, the intellectual, the 
emotional — where love holds sway — and that other 
realm which lies under the control of that part of 
our character which we call will, — the stronghold 
of our own special self-hood. I said Nathan had 
met a crisis hour, but it was hardly more than the 
prelude to it, for the emotion he felt was scarcely a 
defined fear. Nevertheless, it had brought him face 
to face with his own heart, just as on the yesterday 
he had confronted his own soul. Still, I repeat, he 
was slow to formulate it into a fact, especially as 
there was too much of reverence in his thoughts 
of Hester for him easily to regard her as sur- 
rounded by circumstances whose import for other 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 67 

maidens he would have been quick enough to un- 
derstand. 

How unlike all this to the open admiration of 
Victor’s bold glance ! In fact, of all the contrasts 
that had to do with these brothers, there was none 
more decided than their way of thinking of this 
maiden of their choice. — For Victor did love her, 
in so far as he could love one of her nature, which 
of necessity set a limit to his affection, for how 
could he understand that of which he knew nothing ? 
How could he give what he did not have ? And 
alas ! even the share of virtues which had been his 
birthright he had ruthlessly banished during the 
three years of his life abroad. Hence, now it was 
the mere outer shell, the tabernacle of the body, 
that made him so fair and winning, for on that it 
was not yet time for the soul to tell its story, 
though keen eyes, like Judge Benson’s, could al- 
ready trace its foreshadowing. 

I will not weary you with details of that birthday 
party ; enough that it was pronounced by old and 
young as entirely successful, and long remembered 
in the annals of that quiet neighborhood. 

In those days the guests assembled about three 
o’clock in the afternoon, and soon after sundown 
the majority of them were wending their way home- 
ward, summoned by the homely cares of domestic 


68 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

and farm life. But, while the older people left thus 
early, some of the young ones tarried till the warn- 
ing note of the nine o’clock bell sent them home, 
too. For that was a summons obeyed as far out 
among the hills, and across the plains, as its note 
echoed. 

It had been a dull afternoon, the mid-day illum- 
ination of the ice-encased trees not lasting longer 
than the noontide hour. After that the sober gray 
clouds had gathered again, reaching down to the 
edge of the horizon, but toward sunset they lifted 
enough to open a broad belt of deep blue sky 
at the north and west, and, by the time the last 
lingerers turned homeward, the belt of blue, which 
had looked, as little Patty said, like a “path of 
sky,” had widened, and the clouds rolled away, van- 
ishing as clouds so wonderfully do. The moon had 
risen, too, flooding the landscape with a soft, sil- 
very light. 

Those latest lingerers were Hester Gaylord and 
Nan Benson, Hester having waited to help Miss 
Amanda carefully replace in the sideboard closet the 
treasures of dainty India china and Parret-crested 
silver that had been in use for the occasion. Nan’s 
delay was because she and Hester never willingly 
separated at the breaking-up of either quilting-bee, 
singing-school, or the parties ot the country-side. 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


69 

It was Nan who, with no appearance of special 
thought, tripped before Hester, and intercepted 
Victor’s approach, thus giving Nathan the oppor- 
tunity her heart divined he desired, of being Hes- 
ter’s escort home by the way of the moonlighted 
road. This was Nan’s first act, after the afternoon’s 
discovery, of putting self out of sight, and she did it as 
simply and naturally as a butterfly wings from one 
flower to another ; and if, as the legend runs, butter- 
flies be the emblems of immortality, it is a well-chosen 
type of Nan Benson that hour, for all unselfishness 
in thought and deed, trifles though they may seem, 
are parts of the immortal life that is the soul’s 
blessed Hereafter. 

Nan had something of the look of a butterfly, 
too, as she flitted out into the moonlight, with her 
bright face afl aglow with satisfaction over an ac- 
complished purpose. She was wrapped in the warm 
folds of a scarlet cloak, for, like all brunettes, she 
loved bright colors ; and she wore a scarlet hood, 
which, in the moonshine, caught the shade of old 
gold, and had the effect of a frame encircling her 
dark curls, rosy cheeks, and sparkling eyes. 

Even Victor, vexed though he was, could not 
find fault with so brilliant a companion. And yet 
he turned for a look at Hester, as she emerged 
from the shadow of the porch into the full illumin- 


70 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


ing of silvery light. In that moment, again the 
look of admiration flashed from his eyes to hers, 
and, — her glance did not fall beneath the gaze, as 
it had done the day before, while at the same time 
there was something in the look which, though it 
stirred her young heart with an emotion new to it, 
made her hand rest with a sense of comfort and 
safety on Nathan’s strong arm. 

It was not till they reached the turn of the road 
that the young people parted ; then the still air vi- 
brated for a moment with their clear voices, as they 
called good-night and good cheer. 

Nathan and Hester took the way that led to the 
Parsonage, which was nestled under the shelter of 
the hillside, like a bird’s-nest safe in some bough of 
strong pine or evergreen cedar. Victor and Nan’s 
path led up the hill, a steep bit of ascent, and then 
a plain dotted over with houses, among which 
Judge Benson’s was the largest and most imposing. 
Half an hour later, the brothers met on the thresh- 
old of Parret House, but they exchanged no word 
beyond a quickly-spoken ‘ good-night’ — words we 
utter so lightly, and yet think of all it means to 
wish a ‘ good-night ! ’ 


VIII. 


Y SUPPOSE no one ever yet crossed from youth 
to the meridian of their life without retaining 
in their hearts memories of certain days and hours 
that never lose their radiance. 

That moonlight walk with Hester held such a 
youth-time experience for Nathan Parret, for the 
impression of it remained with him even to old age. 
This is not to be wondered at, when we remember 
the dawning of love in the soul is wont to be, I do 
not say the most satisfying, but the most beautiful 
hour life holds for either man or woman. And yet 
the thoughts that stirred Nathan’s heart were des- 
tined not to find utterance. For Hester felt it a 
time when duty demanded that she should urge 
Nathan to earnestly consider religious truths. The 
doing this was natural to her, for she was by tem- 
perament devout, and the home atmosphere which 
surrounded her, as fresh air surrounds a flower, had 
served to deepen her spiritual life ; and yet it was 
not so much by uttered words that she gained sway 
over those who knew her, as by an unconscious in- 
fluence. And there were others besides Nathan Par- 

(71) 


72 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


ret to whom she seemed one of the “ pure in heart who 
see God.” It was that seeing which made the Gos- 
pel so wide-spread a page of Love to Hester, for 
Heavenly Love can find a voice in everything, and 
one of its whispers to her that hour was that on her 
rested the responsibility of Nathan’s soul. Then, 
too, she. had no thought of the human love beating 
in his heart, as he gazed down on her uplifted face, 
and she never had spoken to him so freely and ur- 
gently as she did that evening. 

Even his questions, though they were many of 
them subtle with skepticism, failed to baffle her. 
This intense earnestness of their conversation did 
not begin till after they had parted from Victor and 
Nan, and it did not end till they reached the garden 
gate, and Nathan had his hand on the latch. 

To a nature like his, sensitive to every impres- 
sion, there was a profound significance, amounting 
to a spiritual metaphor, in the simple fact that, as 
his heart had formed the resolution of telling of his 
newly-discovered hope, Hester delayed the avowal 
by her gentle pleading with him to begin a religious 
life. 

Did it mean that she was only to fill the place of 
a holy aspiration in his heart? and was this why, at 
the very time when his mind was full, as it never 
had been before, of plans that were to find satis- 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


7 3 


faction in this world, she stayed his words by 
pointing him from earth to Heaven — from self to 
Christ ? 

So intense, at that moment, was Nathan’s con- 
sciousness of a dual existence, that he stretched his 
hand out into the full light of the moon, as though 
to make sure it was his very own strong right hand. 
And then he bowed his head before the conflicting 
influences swaying him, for he realized it was Hes- 
ter to whom he listened ; Hester who pleaded with 
him ; — and which sounded loudest in his soul, her 
voice, sweet to him as the sweetest music, or the 
voice of conscience? 

It was the asking of one of the most earnest 
questions a man can ask, that made this twofold 
feeling clear. The question was: “Tell me, what 
do you mean by the Gospel ? ” For, even as he 
asked it, in his heart thrilled the reply that was of 
the earth. 

“ Gospel — good news to him it meant home, 
with Hester’s sweet ministry of love, sanctifying 
and illumining its every shadow, while he knew to 
her it was a question all spiritual. 

With no more of hesitation than the moon- 
beams made in falling from the shining orb full 
and strong on Hester’s fair face, she made re- 
ply, repeating the words of Saint Paul’s brief creed, 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


74 

—and surely they hold the essential answer : “ Christ 
died for our sins, according to the Scriptures, and 
He was buried, and He rose again the third day. 

Yes, surely Hester was right in calling this Saint 
Paul’s creed, — “ Christ died for our sins, — and by 
Him, God can still be just, and yet the justifier of 
him that believeth,” for verily this is the definition 
of the Gospel. — “ It might be more, but it is always 
this.” Hardly had the still evening air ceased to 
vibrate with her words before the Parsonage door 
opened wide, and a flood of candle-light shone out 
to meet the moonshine that fell aslant the door- 
step. 

Motherly Mrs. Gaylord had been on the watch 
for Hester, and at the sound of her voice hastened 
to thus open wide the home door, through which a 
moment later she entered, and Nathan was left 
alone in the moonlight. But in that moment he 
had had time to whisper, “ Remember, always, you 
are my Hester.” And her reply had been a mute 
clasp of the hand, which she gave with no thought 
at the time of the deep significance Nathan at- 
tached to the action. For he accepted it as a pledge 
in response to the desire of his heart, which, spite 
his foreboding of a few minutes before, he felt she 
must know, even without his telling; thus that 
seemingly trifling deed of Hester’s came to exert a 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


75 


life-lasting influence over Nathan Parret. It was 
strange it happened at the close of the twenty-four 
hours during which he had twice been urged to en- 
ter on the life which would fill his soul with a peace 
“ higher than all thought, deeper than all sorrow.” 

But Nathan was not ready for that life yet, and 
so he went on striving to feed his soul on negations, 
rather than by the positive truth which only could 
nourish and sustain it. 


IX. 


HOSE who love country life, and who were 



A reared among the hills, or near the ever- 
changing sea, know full well the pleasures every 
recurring season brings. And the April time of 
which I tell, spite its frequent showers, was no de- 
linquent, for the many clouds that chased one an- 
other across the playground of the sky only made 
the blue deeper and more vivid, by contrast with 
the gray or white masses of concentrated vapor. 

Every day of Nathan’s stay at home heralded 
some new pleasure for the young people about 
whom the interest of our story centres. Even Vic- 
tor, fresh comer though he was from the artificial 
enjoyments that he had called pleasures, during the 
years of his sojourn in a foreign land, entered with 
zest into the simple delights that had belonged to 
his boyhood. He was in love, too, and that illum- 
ined the every-dayness of his surroundings with a 
glory unlike any other kindling — for, to a lover’s 
eye, a buttercup is golden, and a crystal is a gem. 

Not once had Victor’s interest failed, and so the 
last day of the week, Saturday morning, dawned 
clear and bright. 


( 76 ) 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


77 


On the Monday, Nathan was to return to his 
studies, not to come home again until the close of 
the summer term in July, when he was to say fare- 
well to college haunts and college friends, and, 
armed with his professional degree, to start in good 
earnest on the work of life. 

The sense that it was the last day in which, all 
together, they could celebrate the spring of the 
year, caused both Hester and Nan to be astir an 
hour before sunrise, Saturday being a busy day in 
New England homes, pressing, as it did, the tasks 
of two days into one, which all must be accomplished 
before sundown; for, according to the custom of 
the time, the last golden ray of light that faded 
from the tree-tops was the herald that hours sacred 
— as set apart for a time holy unto the Lord — had 
come, and naught must interfere with their rest and 
calm. 

So universal was this observance, there was not a 
home in all that country-side in which it was neg- 
lected. For, while those early fathers and moth- 
ers were stern and steadfast opponents to all that 
savored of bondage to the traditions of the Church 
from whose rule they had sought escape by seeking 
new homes in a new land, they yet unconsciously 
enforced many a custom that could be traced back 
to the Church whose traditions they so stoutly set 


78 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


aside as cunningly-devised fables of man’s wisdom ; 
and, among them, surely was the one of observing 
Saturday night. This you will find to be true, if 
you ask any faithful member of the Romish Church, 
for with reverence they will tell you that “ Saturday 
is the most blessed of the week-days, for it is the 
mother of Sunday.” 

It was not an hour after noon-time, and that 
means after an early dinner, when, their tasks ac- 
complished, Nan’s jaunty figure, and tall, graceful 
Hester, with little Patty by her side, were waiting 
at the turn of the road for the brothers, who had 
promised to guide them across the fields, through 
the woods and thickets, and over mill-pond bog, to 
the sunny hillside, where, sheltered by the warm 
blanket of last year’s fallen leaves, they were sure 
to find the sweetest, the largest, and the pinkest ar- 
butus of all that region. True enough, it was all 
a-bloom, ready for the gathering. Clustering tufts 
of the waxy bells, some pale as children of shadow, 
some rosy as fleecy clouds at sunrise, were peeping 
out from under the yellow leaves, like smiles play- 
ing over the time-worn face of some aged man or 
woman; while, as for the anemones and baby- 
bluets, they blossomed in a profusion that made 
the leaf-strewn ground look like a yellow carpet 
spread over with flowers. 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


79 


In less than five minutes Patty’s basket was full, 
and yet her gathering had made no break in the 
stretch of blossoms that reached far up the hillside, 
for not so much as one little space looked empty. 
It was Hester who noticed this — Hester, who all 
her life long had been guarded from trouble, but 
who, nevertheless, had mourned with a child’s in- 
tensity over the brief stay of the little brothers and 
sisters God had taken Home to Heaven while she 
was still a child. Perhaps it was the thought of 
those little graves over in the churchyard, on which 
she knew, later on, her mother would lay some of 
the blooms with which Patty had so gleefully 
heaped her basket high, that caused Hester to say : 
“ If we could only go through life picking flowers, 
as Patty pulls them, and yet, after all our gather- 
ing, leave no empty place lonely for those we take ! ” 
Something in her words, for a moment seemed 
to dim the brightness of the day for Nathan, but 
he was mentally strong and healthy ; he was young, 
too, and his life was now in the outward and the 
events of the present. And his melancholy musings 
were but momentary, for, after all, though Hester’s 
words held the hint of a sigh, why might not her 
wish be granted ? Why might not flowers, in a 
world so full, be gathered, and yet no vacant place 
left? 


So A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

Perchance wisdom strove to whisper they might, 
if brothers would not want the same flower, — but 
Nathan shut his heart that day to wisdom’s whis- 
per. He was glad in the beautiful present, which 
is the heritage of youth, and it is a blessed heritage, 
as those who pass out of its charmed circle all too 
sadly know. For, while to the Christian there is 
infinite rest and peace in leaving all with the Heav- 
enly Father, who orders all in love, we do not come 
to anchorage in the still waters of that calm, till the 
frail bark of our life has known the storm-tossing of 
beating winds and dashing waves. — And sometimes, 
even though at last it cross the Harbor bar, it is 
well-nigh a wreck, with torn sail and rent cordage. 
— But in youth the taking no thought for the mor- 
row is truly as care-free as the “ lilies, who toil not, 
neither do they spin, and yet Solomon, in all his 
glory, was not arrayed like one of them for Sol- 
omon’s glory was the glory of wisdom, and wisdom 
is the price of a costly education in the school of 
discipline. Nevertheless, it is worth all it costs, if 
at last, when the conflict is over, we are permitted 
to join the chorus of the angels, singing : 

“Worthy is the Lamb, 

That hath been slain, 

To receive the power. 

And riches, and wisdom, and might, 

And honor, and glory, and blessing.” 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 8 1 

Nathan did not think of all this, but he did think 
of the truth every lover of flowers knows — that the 
surest way to win blossoms is to pluck the blooms. 
But in this thought, he again refused to hear wis- 
dom’s sequel : “ Be willing that another hand than 
your own should gather them.” 

It was not till the sunny hour that prefaces sun- 
down that our young .folk turned homeward, every 
one of them with their arms laden full of flower- 
treasures ; so full that trailing sprays of the tufted 
arbutus-blossoms drooped to the very ground from 
little Patty’s bountiful load, which was destined to 
supply “ Sunday flowers ” — as, taught by Hester, 
the sweet child called them — not only for her father 
and mother, but for Miss Amanda ; enough, also, 
to fill the largest of the blue-china jars that stood 
on either side of the wide, open fireplace in the 
north parlor of Parret House. 

Leaving the hill, their shortest path was by the 
wood-road, Nathan’s favorite way of approach to 
the chateau side of the mansion, now his own prop- 
erty, that part of the estate being designated as his 
portion by the terms of his father’s will. The sun 
was still so high above the horizon there was time 
for them to tarry, while Nathan and Hester made 
search among the library shelves for a book Mr. 
Gaylord wanted ; Nan and Victor, meanwhile sit- 
6 


82 a MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

ting down on the wide doorstep, their busy fingers 
pulling away the dry, dead leaves that were knotted 
in with the dark green ones of the living plant, and 
in some places tangled close around the flowering 
stems. 

This was Patty’s opportunity to run round the 
corner of the house to the north door, in search of 
Miss Amanda, whom she was pretty sure to find at 
that hour of the day sitting in the parlor in her 
high-backed chair, attired in her afternoon frock of 
carefully made-over black silk, and with knitting- 
work in hand ; and as Miss Amanda’s knitting was 
quite as much a matter of feeling as of sight, her 
chair was wont to be drawn close to the window 
looking out toward the high-road, so that no one 
approaching or leaving the house, on that side, 
could escape her keen gaze. 

Nathan, although he knew almost every volume 
in the old library, failed to find the one wanted ; 
the only remaining place in which to seek it was a 
high shelf over his father’s secretary. Springing up 
lightly, he balanced himself on the open desk-panel, 
while with one hand he held on to the projecting 
shelf, and, with the other, passed book after book 
down to Hester. This was how they came to find 
a volume that was destined to hold a marked place 
in the development of Nathan’s life. It was the 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 83 

legend of St. Christopher, which was recorded in 
French, a language as easy for Nathan to read as 
the plainest page of English print ; but he was 
somewhat slow in translating it for Hester, and it 
was not till they rejoined Victor and Nan that 
either of them caught the full significance of the 
parable-story. For Victor, to whom Nathan handed 
the book, read it with an easy fluency that made 
every word glow with life and meaning for Nathan. 
Hester, too, listened with the starry light in her 
eyes that came into them when she was deeply in- 
terested. Nan also saw beyond the mere words of 
the tale, while Patty — who had returned just as 
Victor began to read — stood spellbound, and, with 
a child’s glimpse of a truth sometimes missed by 
older people, she eagerly exclaimed, as Victor came 
to the last line : “ Nathan, oh Nathan ! do you re- 
member father said you were to be a different 
Nathan after your birthday, and will you be like 
Saint Christopher?” “A modern Saint Christo- 
pher!” It was Victor who repeated the words, 
but in his voice there sounded a note of mocking 
scorn, while Patty’s had thrilled with earnestness, 
and her eyes shone with a light bright as that which 
deepened the blue of Hester’s. Strange to say, Na- 
than, quite contrary to his usual seriousness, made 
a laughing reply, saying: “ Yes, little Patty, I will 


84 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

seek the strongest Ruler,” and playfully he enumer- 
ated one Master after another, running through a 
list which numbered Love, Knowledge, Strength, 
Wealth, and many other Master-powers in a man’s 
life. Then followed a conversation gay with repar- 
tee and merry words, Nan pressing the question, 
“ What then ? ” as one Ruler after another failed ; 
till at last Hester interrupted, bidding them note 
how near the sun was to sinking behind the bound- 
ary-line of the hills, which Patty called the day’s 
night-cap. 

It was full time to turn homeward ; already Miss 
Amanda had folded up her knitting-work, and 
opened Squire Wolcott’s family Bible, which filled 
the place of honor on the mahogany claw-table that 
stood beneath the Squire’s portrait. But before 
she turned a leaf of the Holy Book, she stood by 
the window, shading her eyes from the last bright 
sunbeams, as she watched the little group pass out 
of the garden on to the high-road. “ Would her 
heart’s desire be granted? ” — thus she queried, “ and 
Nathan, the brave, true lad, walk life’s road hand- 
in-hand with sweet Hester Gaylord?” 

A shrewd smile played for a moment across Miss 
Amanda’s somewhat stern face, as she murmured : 
“ Victor and Nan would be well mated ; she would 
not fear to tell him of his faults, and they are 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


85 

enough,” the good woman added, with a sigh, as 
she continued to muse aloud, saying: “ But Hester 
and Victor, if they were to wed it would be nothing 
but sorrow. Why, he would hurt the girl’s gentle 
heart twenty times in the day, and yet, after all, it 
would simply be because he was himself, and thus 
as unable to understand her as a sea-coast rock 
would be unable to understand a fragile shell, tossed 
against its jagged edge by some in-coming wave ; 
and Hester would go hungering all her life long 
for what Victor could never give, till at last she 
would die of hunger and, with a sharp snap, she 
pulled-to the close window-shutter, as though to 
hide from her imagination the picture fancy had 
painted. Was Miss Amanda Barstow a prophetess, 
in her simple way? And when she spoke of dying, 
because of a hungering heart, did she forget that 
only on the last Sabbath Mr. Gaylord had said, 
“ The true way to know life was by living ” ? 


X. 


Sunday, Heaven’s gate stands ope.” Never 
were these words of George Herbert’s more 
fully verified than on the Sabbath that prefaced 
Nathan Parret’s home-leaving for a stretch of time 
that bounded many a month more than he then an- 
ticipated. 

The sun rose bright and clear, and the earth 
seemed enfolded with the calm of an infinite peace, 
while the sky was an over-arching dome of blue — the 
pure blue of an unclouded sky ; not a flat, dead ex- 
panse of unbroken color, but one that seems quiver- 
ing with “ a trembling transparency of penetrable 
air.” Over everything rested, too, the solemn hush 
which broods, as at no other time, in the air of a 
Sunday morning. 

I often wonder how we could bear the restless, 
pressing eagerness of life, were it not for the regu- 
larly recurring rest of the Sabbath. Even Nature 
admits the claim of the holy time that fills a place 
amid the turmoil of the week-day world, akin to 
that a rest fills in some long strain of music, which, 

without it, would fail to yield the full harmony of 
( 86 ) 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


8 7 


the melody. But remember that, “ while, as there 
is no music in the mere rest, there is the making 
of music in it,” so there is no blessing in the mere 
coming of the Sabbath, only as we make it by ap- 
propriating the 

“ Blessings that are plentiful and rife.” 

And to do this we must set ourselves “ to learn the 
tune,” heeding the rests, for “ they are not to be 
slurred over, or omitted,” since without them our 
Life’s music will be a discord. 

On that Sabbath morning Nathan was awake at 
sunrise ; he even saw the morning star, and the 
pale orb of the moon that sank behind the western 
hills as the sun, like a globe of gold, came sailing 
up from beyond the edge of the eastern horizon. 
He was keenly sensitive to the influences of the 
day, and he was glad that hour of its dawning, for 
it was a time hallowed and sacred by happy mem- 
ories that reached far back into the years of his 
childhood. — For, spite the rigid observance of the 
hours, which, at that time, filled an active New 
England lad with a certain dread, Miss Amanda 
was of too cheerful a temperament to let anything 
like gloom oppress the brothers. And yet she 
never allowed either of them, during their boyhood, 
to escape the Sunday discipline of Catechism and 


88 A MODFRN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

Commandment recital. Nathan was ready, and 
waiting for her that morning on the doorstep, full 
five minutes before the ringing of the second bell, 
at the first sound of which she appeared, in all the 
decorum of her Sabbath attire — the folds of her 
ample gray stuff-gown free from minutest dust- 
speck, while her black silk shawl was as fresh as 
though it had not done service ten years or more. 
Her bonnet-strings, also, were as guiltless of crease 
or fray as if tied for the first time, and the long lace 
veil that had been a gift from M. le Conte years 
ago was good as new. 

Apart from her dress, on her kindly face there was 
a Sunday look — a certain expression of peace — that 
belonged to the hour ; and it deepened as she caught 
sight of Nathan waiting for her. Indeed, Miss 
Amanda’s cup of happiness was full when, as she 
and Nathan passed beyond the garden gate, steps 
announced Victor hastening to join them. 

The church, or meeting-house as the country-folk 
called it, was within walking distance, and Miss 
Amanda was not one to “ harness up ” of a Sunday 
morning, unless absolutely necessary ; it being her 
belief that if the Apostle Paul thought it worth 
while to remember the “ groaning creation,” it was 
no less her duty to enforce rest for man and beast. 
And so it was a day free from all unnecessary labor, 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 89 

to the remotest parts of the farm, where, till Vic- 
tor’s return, her will had ruled supreme. How it 
would be with him as master it was too soon to tell, 
save from the hint of change his half-playful satire 
suggested as he maintained that, in Miss Amanda’s 
domain, the dogs dared not bark on Sunday, while 
the chickens and ducks cackled and quacked a jar- 
gon a dozen degrees softer than their usually high- 
pitched note. Be this as it may, certain it is the 
sweet, solemn stillness was unlike any other quiet, 
and ordinary sounds did not seem to disturb it with 
their week-day harshness. 

It was a pleasant sight to look up and down the 
long street of the village, for by every road entering 
it, from north and south, east and west, came ve- 
hicles of well-nigh endless variety, from the single 
buggy to the three-seated farm wagon which held 
the entire family, sometimes represented by mem- 
bers of three or four generations. And all were 
wending their way toward the Lord’s House, to 
keep Holy Day. 

The services were arranged to meet the conven- 
ience of these many comers, for N , being the 

county-town, its meeting-house was the Sunday nu- 
cleus of the widely-scattered population. The first 
service was devoted to prayer and praise, with a 
sermon more doctrinal and emphatic than that 


90 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


which followed at the second assembling of the 
congregation, after the noontime intermission ; — a 
time during which the children of the flock were 
regaled on doughnuts, ginger-cracks, and seed-cakes, 
while the elders exchanged greetings, and discussed 
the sermon and parish news — the sober, grave-faced 
men gathering in little knots by themselves, and 
speaking in subdued tones of matters of import, 
while their wives kept up a lively interchange of 
opinions on the subjects most interesting to women 
who seldom met, save during the brief Sunday 
nooning. 

Meantime, the rosy-cheeked maidens and sturdy 
youths made half-whispered plans for pleasures, that 
varied with the changing seasons, autumn being 
celebrated by singing-school and nutting frolics; 
winter by quilting-bees and candy-pulls; while 
spring and summer held numberless excursions 
after flowers and berries, among the wooded hills 

that surrounded N as the mountains are round 

about Jerusalem. 

Among the group of young folk Victor was a no- 
ticeable figure that day, - dressed, as he was, in a 
new suit of broadcloth made after the latest Parisian 
fashion ; and many were the shy glances the coun- 
try maidens cast at the two brothers. For Nathan, 
too, was unlike the sturdy young farmers in their 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


91 


homespun suits of butternut. The brothers held, 
also, a prominent position among the landholders 
of the neighborhood, and that gave an added in- 
terest to their fine personal appearance. 

Earnest-minded Mr. Gaylord was always deeply 
impressed with the responsibility of his sacred of- 
fice as proclaimer of the Gospel, and Victor and 
Nathan had been much in his thought during the 
preparation of his sermons for that day. There was 
a stiff formality in his manner of delivery that 
now would win a smile ; but, according to the pre- 
vailing taste of the times, it only served to add 
force to his original and somewhat quaint way of 
presenting the truth. Those were days, too, when 
“ the minister” was regarded with a reverential awe 
that invested his utterances with the majesty of 
law. And when he came to the most solemn parts 
of his appeal, the assembled congregation were so 
still even the restless stirring of a child could be 
heard. 

The morning discourse was, perhaps, the most 
powerful, the very text riveting immediate atten- 
tion : “ The soul that sinneth, it shall surely die.” 
It was a sermon that might with profit be repeated 
in these days, when the very air is pulsing with the 
vexed questions of eternal death and probation. 
“ Man’s life” — thus Mr. Gavlord began — “is as 


9 2 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


much on one side the grave as on the other. He 
does not drop himself when he enters on immortal- 
ity. It is self that is the immortal part of him, and 
it is the intensifying and revealing of the real self 
which makes his Heaven or his Hell.” — And in the 
vivid language used at that time, he had pictured 
a sinful soul immortalized ; his voice thrilling with 
deep emotion as he added, “and that is Hell.” — 
And then he turned to picture the soul in which 
good becomes master — good that, borne up by the 
wings of faith, soars beyond the control of evil ; 
and in a tone gentle as that by which a mother 
soothes a restless child, he softly said : “ When this 
— the blessed mastery of good — begins, then Heaven 
is begun.” This is the substance of the prelude, 
followed, according to the method of the time, by 
diversions reaching from firstly, on, till they were 
counted by double figures. 

“ Divine Condemnation ” was the title given to 
that sermon by more than one of Mr. Gaylord’s 
listeners. And he argued that condemnation was 
already begun. “ He that believeth not is con- 
demned already.” — The kingdom of Heaven being 
within, — the misery of Hell being within, for with- 
in lies the blessing, as within lies the woe, — Man 
not being barred from Heaven by close-shut gates, 
for “ the gates of it shall not be shut at all.” “ Hence 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


93 

it is self ” — thus Mr. Gaylord pleaded — “that shuts 
out from heaven, the great dividing sea being 
character .” 

I will not tarry to detail more of that sermon. I 
have quoted enough to show the warning it held 
for Nathan, which was not left to rankle in his mind 
as a bald statement of warning alone, for the dis- 
course which followed in the second meeting for 
worship was full of tenderness, and made very real 
the promise of the white robe given to him that 
overcometh by faith. Yet there was no hiding of 
the truth that the life of faith involves many a 
struggle, for “ the soul of man is a battle-ground.” 
And, after all, the success is not in us, but in Christ. 
“ Thanks be unto God, who giveth us the victory, 
through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 

Through Christ , — that was the key-note of Mr. 
Gaylord’s second sermon, as well as its Amen. 
With the echo of his words sounding in their hearts, 
the people of his charge gravely separated ; and by 
three o’clock the rhythmic music of horses’ hoofs 
and rumbling wheels had ceased, while the long 
line of hitching-posts and sheds back of the church 
were left solitary till the coming of the next Lord’s 
day. During the walk home, Miss Amanda did not 
exchange more than an occasional word with the 
brothers. Nathan, too, was silent, for he was not 


94 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


one to call attention to the fact that an angel had 
stirred the waters of his soul that day. But no such 
reserve held Victor quiet, and the careless irrever- 
ence of his light, shallow criticisms of “ the minis- 
ter’s ” discourses shocked Miss Amanda almost as 
much as if he had used profane language — for criti- 
cism was not then, as now, the fashion. 

We have lingered so long over the fore-part of 
that Sabbath, there is but brief space left to tell the 
story of the latter part ; and yet it held two visits 
that, in their influence over Nathan, demand recital 
in this record of his soul’s life. 


XI. 


HE first of the visits was to the Parsonage, 



-* where Hester met Nathan with a smile, 
though there was a wistful look in her blue eyes 
that he did not fail to see ; yet, during the hour of 
his stay, they had no minute alone in which he 
could ask her its meaning. Perhaps if he had, she 
could hardly have told him ; anyway, they parted 
with no word of the future, save the general wish 
for success, in which every member of the house- 
hold shared, from the grave father to merry little 
Patty. Hester did follow him to the doorstep, but 
there Victor met them, and Nathan, as he turned 
away, could hardly be said to regret that his love 
was still unspoken ; for there had always been a 
sweetness to him in keeping his dearest aspirations 
and hopes silent in the shelter of his own inner 
thoughts. He felt, too, as restful an assurance in 
the pledge of Hester’s significant hand-clasp as if, 
by words, she had acknowledged him the winner of 
her heart. 

I do not think either of them were to blame for 


( 95 ) 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


96 

the misunderstanding, and yet, when one thinks of 
all it involved, it is hard not to wish that Hester 
had never given that mute sign. For, after it, Na- 
than had banished the lingering, undefined sense of 
disturbance that had thrilled his heart when he had 
seen Victor’s look at Hester. Being strong of will, 
it was easy for him to do this, and he took no 
thought of the lesson he had been bitterly taught 
more than once, which was that when his and Vic- 
tor’s desires were for the same thing, it was Victor 
who usually won the prize. 

It was when their wills were opposed that the 
contrast between the two brothers was most ap- 
parent. For, as is so often the case with members 
of the same family, while the rudiments of their 
characters were much alike, their development was 
markedly dissimilar. They were both proud, am- 
bitious, and self-willed, but Nathan’s pride scorned 
to harbor a mean or dishonorable thought, and the 
giving of a false impression was to him as lowering 
to self-respect as an uttered falsehood. Indeed, in 
his reverence for truth he rivalled the most stalwart 
truth-lover in the long line of upright Wolcotts from 
whom he descended. As for his ambition, it was never 
a paltry desire for praise, but it was for power, and 
the maintenance of what, among his boyhood and 
college companions, had been called fair play. This, 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


97 

as he grew older, came to mean the maintenance 
of truth and right. 

It was the possession of these traits that, after he 
yielded self-will to God’s will, and consecrated 
power to God’s service, made it possible for Nathan 
Parret to attain the influence over hearts and minds 
that won for him the title I have chosen for the 
story of his life. Not that more than one or two 
of those whom he helped most ever put this thought 
into words ; indeed, to many of them the term 
Saint would have been nothing more than a sug- 
gestion of monastery cell or friar’s robe, and all un- 
like a descriptive title of the strong, broad-shoul- 
dered, muscular, middle-aged man known as Nathan 
Parret. But our present acquaintance with him is 
long before that time, and now we see him as he 
was in the first days of manhood, when even the 
mind of an earnest, true-souled youth is wont to be 
a place seething with conflicting thoughts and aims, 
— a time when the past of young life is seeking to 
adjust itself with the present, and at the same hour 
striving to grasp the longed-for future. 

Victor, though two years older, was passing 
through much the same crucial experience, while 
with him the traits I have delineated as helping to 
form Nathan’s character were even more pro- 
nounced. But his pride made him sensitive to any 
7 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


98 

slight, and on the alert for it, and with him ambi- 
tion was not so much a desire for real power as tor 
the attainment of a high position, as the world 
ranks ; while his self-will was a fixed determination 
to gain his own way, at whatever cost. In his soul, 
too, there was no real recognition of God, though 
he hid this for many months from Hester Gaylord 
and her parents, making an outward show of re- 
ligious observance, when in fact all the religion he 
had was a superstitious awe, that, if it restrained 
him, did so from the poorest motive that can in- 
fluence any soul — mere fear. 

Spite all this, he was awake to the poetic side of 
events and people. It was this quickness of per- 
ception which led him to admire Hester, and to his 
cultured eye, trained to note grace and e^se in man- 
ner and motion, as well as general refinement of 
bearing, she at once assumed the interest of a poem. 
This she divined sufficiently, before Nathan left 
home, for it to make her long to explain to him the 
simple meaning of her silent response to his ques- 
tion ; for the new emotion stirring the old-time 
calm of her soul, added to the quick intuition of a 
woman, made her conscious that he had meant by 
it more than she at first thought. She was con- 
scious, too, that suddenly his always before out- 
spoken, frank affection had changed, and it be- 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


99 


wildered her, just as Victor’s look had bewildered. 
To Nan Benson, both would have been plain as an 
open book, but Hester was like a plant that lifts up 
its sweet flower for sunshine and shadow to fall 
upon, without asking why the sunshine warms and 
the shadow chills it. Then, too, the action was very 
unlike her usual seriousness, and this troubled her, 
for anything like playfulness seemed a wide digres- 
sion from their grave conversation, which had dealt 
with the solemn reality of life. Thinking of it thus, 
Hester’s sensitive conscience grew more and more 
distressed ; and so strong became her desire for an 
explanation, she called Nathan back after he had said 
good-bye, and passed beyond the door-yard gate. 
But at that moment Victor laughed a merry peal, 
and the ,gentle sound of her voice was lost in his 
louder tone. It was thus that, when affection was 
stirring her heart for the younger brother, the elder 
came between her and its expression. 


XII. 


N ATHAN’S second visit was to the village 
cemetery — a dreary place, for New England 
people, save with rare exceptions like Mrs. Gaylord, 
had not then noted the Gospel word telling that 
our Lord’s own sepulchre was in a garden. The 
spiritual life of the time, too, held back from mak- 
ing the grave a place of beauty, as tending to centre 
the Christian’s vision on that which had to do with 
the mortal, rather than the immortal. But, a cen- 
tury later, they did notice that garden word ; and, 
since then, they have not feared to make the place 
of graves a place of flowers, and thus an ever-speak- 
ing parable of dying to live, which is the yearly- 
repeated resurrection anthem of the up-springing 
green things upon the earth, that “ magnify and praise 
the Lord forever.” 

Ever since the five-acre field back of the church 
had been set apart for sacred use, as a burial-place, 
the plot of ground Nathan sought had been known 
as the “Wolcott Lot.” It was a neat enclosure, 
surrounded by a fence of sharp-pointed pickets, 

painted a glaring white, that made every separated 
( 100 ) 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


IOI 


picket assume the form of a white spear-head when 
seen in the half-twilight, which was the hour of his 
visit. 

Within the enclosure was a double row of mounds, 
all covered with the tender green of the young 
grass-blades that the April showers had watered 
into fresh life. Every mound was marked, too, by 
a stone, either of granite or time-stained marble — 
for the last interment had been more than ten years 
before, when God called Mrs. Parret from earth ; 
and, ten years writes its story, even on the marble 
of a gravestone — such a narrow space on which to 
trace the two great epochs, birth and death ; words 
that we utter well-nigh every day, and yet our hu- 
man language persists in placing the last first and 
the first last, for death is our portion here, life our 
heritage There ; — the abiding life, of which it is 
promised, “we die no more.” As Nathan stood 
looking down on the graves of his parents, he 
vaguely pondered this constant dying, which is the 
very atmosphere of the soul from its first hour on 
to the last of earthly existence. Think what a con- 
stant casting aside of the former things belong to 
it — how ignorance dies as knowledge widens, and 
how, with every added year, there is the discarding 
of one, and then another, of the dry husks of the 
bygone from the golden-eared corn of the present, 


102 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


till at last the chaff in among the wheat is sifted, 
and we enter on the life where all things are new. 
Reared as Nathan had been, in the very centre of 
contradictions, — a fact revealed by one glance at his 
home, — it seems strange that it had escaped him till 
that minute, when, as he looked at his father’s and 
mother’s graves, and read the inscriptions traced on 
the stones that marked them, he suddenly saw how un- 
like was the suggestion of their two lives, even as told 
by those brief records. His father’s was inscribed : 
“ Adolph Parret, second son of M. le Conte Parret, of 
Chateau Bois, France.” As Nathan gazed on the 
words, he felt as though his French ancestry were 
looking out at him from the letters cut in the marble. 
And his thoughts were vivid and picture-like as in 
imagination he saw dark-eyed, vivacious women glid- 
ing in and out of the far-famed Parisian salons , where 
conversation w T as the chief pleasure, — those brilliant 
French women of an earlier day, who were the 
friends of poets and scholars, and among whom 
ranked high his paternal grandmother. It was this 
blending of genius with social intercourse that had 
always held a fascination for Nathan; and in his 
thought of it, he included not only the women, but 
men, for though he knew no longer knight-errants 
with glittering casque and poised spear rode in tilt 
and tournament, in his mental picture he saw the 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


103 


chivalry of France; — men Quixotic, perchance, and 
romantic, but real and brave, nevertheless, like his 
father’s hero and patron, Lafayette. Turning from 
this courtly company, Nathan read the simple record 
on his mother’s gravestone : “ Prudence, daughter 
of Nathan Wolcott, and relict of Adolph Parret ” 
— that was all. But it was enough to waken mem- 
ories of his mother, and he thought of her as young 
and fair as Hester, and as true and pure of heart ; 
and tears dimmed his eyes, as he stooped to train a 
bit of sweet-briar which had sprung up between his 
parents’ graves from a seed blown by the summer 
wind over from the bushes that edged the roadway. 
So firmly had it rooted, he knew, when June-time 
came, it would bud and blossom, a flush of pink 
with a golden heart. Meanwhile, though it was 
fraught more than a leaf-budded stalk, there was 
that in Nathan’s mind which made it eloquent as a 
poem. Yet, I repeat, it was nothing but a sweet- 
briar rose, growing between two graves ! 

He tarried so long in the cemetery, the stars 
were twinkling bright when he turned homeward, 
never thinking of Nan Benson, who had done little 
since sundown but watch the turn in the road, she 
felt so sure he would come to say good-bye. But, 
when he did not, Nan gave no outward sign of re- 
gret, and the next day her nerves were as steady, 


104 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


and her words as merry and gay, as ever. This is 
a way some women have of bearing disappointment 
all through their lives ; though Nan did not, even to 
herself, acknowledge disappointment. And yet 
such things sometimes fulfil the mission of disci- 
pline quite as much as those that tell their story in 
an open way by what we are wont to call “ com- 
monplace trials.” Though I refuse to admit that 
there is such a thing as commonplace, when the ex- 
perience deals with aught so subtle as the heart of 
man or woman ; and certain it is there never yet 
were two beings who read just the same story, 
either of joy or sorrow, for “ the rule of humanity 
is, that every separate soul is quite exceptional.” 

When at last Nathan reached home, and opened 
the front door, he was greeted by a flood of light 
that rivalled the stars, Miss Amanda having left a 
lighted lamp on the hall table, and by it stood two 
shining brass candlesticks, one for each brother, and 
each holding a mould that looked like a long white 
finger; for Miss Amanda’s candle-moulding never 
failed to produce candles clear as wax, with wicks 
which did not vary from the exact centre so much 
as a hair’s-breadth. 

Nathan only gave a passing thought to Victor’s 
absence, but, long afterward, he remembered how 
he had left him standing on the Parsonage doorstep 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


105 

with Hester. And when he thus recollected, with 
the way memory has of reproducing bygone im- 
pressions, he seemed to hear the sound of Victor’s 
laughter as plainly as though it were an echo no 
farther removed than yesterday. Going up-stairs, 
he called good-night as he passed Miss Amanda’s 
half-opened door, and then he turned to the narrow 
passage-way which led to the chateau side of the 
house, in which had been his room from boyhood. 
It was small, and simply furnished, and the outlooks 
from the windows were bounded by a clump of 
maple-trees that grew so close together their 
branches were interlaced, and when the wind was 
high they patted against the panes like some beck- 
oning call from the outside world — a sound that 
many a time had startled Nathan. Nevertheless, 
those trees were dear as friends to him, for all the 
unspoken poetry that in childhood had sung in his 
heart he could tell them, feeling sure their murmur- 
ing leaves would give no hint of his secret musings. 
Their gnarled and jagged bark, too, had always 
been like a picture-gallery to the imaginative lad, 
for, after a rain or heavy dew, the moisture brought 
out lines and hues that formed strange, grotesque 
faces and figures, delicate as though traced by a 
pencil. And sometimes he would fancy he saw In- 
dian maidens, sweet as Minnehaha, the Laughing- 


106 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 

water; then, again, shapes like birds and animals 
would appear. 

But the associations with the trees Nathan most 
prized centred round the living birds that, every 
spring-time, built nests among the leafy boughs — 
gray-coated sparrows, robin redbreasts, and blue- 
birds; while, high up, swinging from the slender 
twig of some out-reaching branch, orioles hung their 
homes, which were made of bits of moss and soft, 
downy things gathered from far and near. That 
night, putting out his candle, he looked through 
the uncurtained window, skyward, and his gaze 
penetrated the network of delicate twigs, among 
which there had been a great swelling of tender 
buds for the last month. But it was not of bud- 
ding twigs Nathan thought, so much as of the nest- 
building time they heralded. And then his mind 
wandered beyond the trees and their stories to 
Hester, who was holy to him as Noah’s dove ; and 
he smiled at his fancy of likening her to that hope- 
bringing bird, while he pictured himself as reaching 
out toward her the sceptre of his deepest reverence 
and love, as the Eastern king extended it to the 
royal Esther of old. But we have tarried long 
enough over this preface-time of Nathan Parret’s 
history. For, after all, it is but like the rosy light 
of morning sunshine, that so speedily ascends the 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


107 


plane of the sky toward its meridian brightness ; 
and we must speed on, if we are to keep pace with 
it, even though the story of early morning holds a 
sweetness and a freshness the later hours never 
know. 








PART II. 



“ The goodness of God is a goodness that does not shrink 
from the inflicting of suffering. And ', without shadowing 
our hearts with un filial fear — for sufficient unto the day 
is the evil thereof — we should yet be collecting something 
of the strength of preparation , through some forecasting 
of the soul, some occasional questioning of ourselves as to 
how we should endure what God, in the infinitude of that 
holy Love which will not shrink from any needful suffering , 
may have to ordain for us .” — Thom. 

“ 1 Who will give me his heart j 

Said God, 1 my Love he shall find' j 
With that speech a resplendent sun 
Fell into my mind.” 


I. 


F ROM a child Nathan Parret had been keenly 
alive to the influence of changing seasons. 
And never had spring and summer seemed so full 
to him of Nature’s manifestation of beauty as it did 
during the weeks which, since the waking-time in 
April, had continued an unfolding of glory till July 
was fast waning before the near advent of August. 
It had been a summer marked by days when the 
sunshine was a blaze of golden light, and the sky 
deep blue, with that clearness of color that is a re- 
fulgent sapphire. The trees, too, — even the oldest 
and most storm-tossed, — had put on a rich mantle 
of massy foliage, where greens of varying shades 
rested in the harmony of full, close leafage, one 
against the other, and every day heralded some 
wonder, beyond the telling by words, of opening 
flowers and ripening fruit. 

Not one note of all this outer-world gladness es- 
caped Nathan, keeping time, as it did, with the 
song in his heart. For there was a song there, 
spite the grave thoughts which belonged to all earn- 
est natures those days, when religion was the famil- 

(iii) 


1 12 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


iar topic of conversation, and when it was as impos- 
sible to escape its influence as it was to blind eyes 
to the sunshine. Nevertheless, Nathan delayed his 
own personal decision of the subject, saying : “ Later 
on, I will decide.” Those were days, also, when 
the rush and hurry of the present had not disturbed 
the serene tranquillity of life ; for, somehow, men 
and women then believed the truth — that God 
never set them a duty without granting the time 
needful to accomplish it. It was the recognition 
of this which doubtless influenced Nathan to delay 
writing Hester the story of his love ; for to that, 
also, he said, “ I will wait.” And he counted the 
days that intervened before the college-term closed, 
and he would be free to turn homeward, the bringer 
of his own message rather than the sender of it by 
the formal use of pen and ink. 

Many an hour between the daylight and the dark, 
as he sailed the blue waters of the bay, he would let 
his oars lie still, while in anticipation he pictured 
the hour and the place, where he would tell this 
story, that is so old, and yet always new ; and so 
real it all became, more than once his strong frame 
had thrilled with the sense of the touch of Hester’s 
hand, warm and soft, and nestling into his firm clasp. 
And imagination is so swift a painter, he followed 
out the scene in detail, even to the return to the Par- 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


1 13 

sonage home, where he saw the minister’s familiar 
study, the shaded lamp and paper-strewn desk, the 
wide-open Bible, with a vase by its side, holding 
some woodland flower gathered by Hester. His 
quickened fancy seemed also to hear her father’s 
word of blessing, uttered with uplifted hand, and 
head bowed in lowly reverence. He heard, too, the 
mother’s soft sob of mingled joy and wonderment, 
that her Hester, who only a little while before had 
been her baby-girl, had been sought and won by 
plighted troth to this friend of all her life long. — 
And like a ray of sunshine across this mental pic- 
ture, was wont to flash the thought of Patty, and 
her questioning gaze, followed by glee over the as- 
tertained truth that Nathan was to be her elder 
brother. It was the charm of these musings that 
made the hours of hard study and close application 
to lectures and laboratory work, seem as mere play 
to him. They inspired him, too, with added eager- 
ness of desire to obtain the highest rank for scholar- 
ship, awarded on the graduation day. It came at 
last, and crowned him with the honor he had 
sought ; and not long after noon-time, he stepped 
down from the platform erected in the central 
meeting-house of the town, to receive the warm 
congratulations not only of the College professors, 
but of friends and classmates. In his hand he held 
8 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


1 14 

the roll of parchment that declared him well equipped 
to enter on his chosen career, the practice of medi- 
cine — that blessed healing art, whose motto is, 
'‘They serve God best who serve His creatures 
most.” 

It was still early in the day, a good three hours 
before sundown, and with his natural reserve, Na- 
than speedily made his way through the group of 
kindly folk that outside the church were waiting to 
wish him well, and turning into a narrow street, he 
was soon at the outskirts of the town, that was then 
pretty much encircled by the boundary-line of the 
four squares, that even to this day assert their 
early claim to importance, by retaining the most 
valuable land of the now wide, out-spreading city. 

He had no mind to slight the College custom of 
celebrating commencement by an evening reception 
at the residence of the venerable President. But 
first he would have an hour or more by himself out 
on the waters of the harbor, which between three 
and four o’clock of that July day, lay a calm, 
unbroken surface, reflecting every boat and white- 
winged ship that sailed its placid waters, with a 
distinctness that doubled the object, even to the 
repeating of mast-head, spar, lines of cordage, and 
coil of rope. The air was sultry on land, and in 
the crowded church it had been hot and close, and 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


1 15 

this made the life-giving, tarry, sea-weedy odors, 
specially refreshing to him. With no thought of 
passing beyond the safe shelter of the bay, he 
looked half longingly over toward the misty gray 
line which meant the wide open sea. 

Captain Pickett was on the watch for Nathan, 
and in five minutes the light, well-trimmed craft in 
which he had spent many an hour during the last 
months, was gliding over the blue water like a sea- 
gull. It was a stanch, sea-worthy little boat, light 
as a canoe, and yet securely riding the waves when 
the wind blew fresh and stirred their now sleeping 
forces. The old sea captain had become fond of 
the youth who many a twilight had lingered to 
listen with never-failing interest to his tales of 
storm and shipwreck ; and though he was not one to 
forecast trouble, just as Nathan was pushing off, his 
keen eye detected a shadowy, vapory cloud, forming 
across the sky over toward the west. The sight of 
it caused him to raise a warning finger, as he called 
out to Nathan to keep a watch to westward, for 
there was a squall brewing. 

Nathan meant to heed the old man’s counsel ; 
but his way was outward, and his mind was full of 
thoughts and hopes wide as the sea ; and the calm 
was unbroken till within an hour of sundown, then 
he noticed a gentle stirring of the waters, while he 


u6 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


felt the cool sweet touch of a fresh breeze from 
over inland, but he saw no cloud, though he looked 
skyward. The haze had spread and thickened, that 
was all, and so he let the little boat continue to 
float according to the guidance of wind and tide. 
It would be time to turn the helm and take the 
now idle oars in hand, half an hour hence ; thus he 
thought, and then if the wind had freshened into a 
brisk breeze, he felt no fear. Had not his strong 
arm rowed in many a boat-race, and encountered 
many a head-wind and foam-crested wave ? and this 
breeze from the wind-cloud of which Captain Pickett 
had warned him, why, it was nothing more than a 
breath from the hills and farm-lands, where his way 
would lead on the morrow, and where loving eyes 
would be watching for his coming. He smiled as 
he thought of the broad fields of corn over which 
that breeze had played, fluttering their wavy stalks 
till they were all a-chime with rustling music, and 
stirring the leaves of a hundred trees at once, and 
then he looked skyward again to see the haze 
formed into billowy thunder-clouds, that were 
lighted up for a brief space with sunset-glory of 
rosy rays and golden illumining. But even as he 
looked, the great heaving mass of floating clouds 
was riven by a flash of lightning, before the lurid 
red light of which the sunset colors grew dim, 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


ii 7 

while suddenly he became conscious of a chill, and 
a darkening of the day. Meanwhile the clouds grew 
momentarily blacker and heavier, and a soft patter 
of rain-drops began to stir widening circles on the 
now restless water which broke into a hundred 
foam-crested wavelets, as the wind began to freshen 
and scud across them. It was a wild storm — one of 
those sudden mid-summer showers that come and 
go so speedily. And yet, when the clouds broke 
and the darkness lifted, Nathan saw it was already 
twilight on land and sea. 

During the sudden fury of the gale, his one 
thought had been to keep the boat before the wind, 
and she still went dancing across the waves at the 
rate of many miles an hour. But, as the squall 
abated, he had time to realize the peril that sur- 
rounded him, as in vain he strove to draw in the 
torn, rent fragment of the sail, that now hung like 
a rag ; for, as he tried, he found his vaunted strength 
was as nothing. And then he turned to the oars, 
in which he had so confidently trusted ; but as they 
touched the water, a great, rolling wave dashed 
against the slender blades, snapping them in two. 
Meanwhile, the little pinnace continued courtesying 
on its way, keeping time to the rolling waves, one 
moment sinking into their receding trough, and the 
next bounding up on some foam-crested billow. All 


1 1 8 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 

this time the darkness was deepening, and Nathan 
knew he had crossed the harbor-bar, powerless to 
check the light craft, flying before wind and wave like 
a thistledown blown it knows not where. And still 
the night darkened, and the great wide sea, the joy- 
ous sea of the morning, stretched now an ever- 
widening gulf between him and his dearest. 
But Nathan was not afraid ; never once did his 
courage fail him, all through the hours of the night. 
It was strange, knowing as he did, that humanly, all 
that was between him and a deep-sea grave was 
that frail boat. In one sense he did not pray, 
either, for there was that in his nature which held 
him back from seeking God in those hours of dark- 
ness and sore extremity, when he had closed his 
heart against the Heavenly Voice in the sunshine. 
But, while his lips framed no uttered plea for mercy, 
there was calm in his soul, for he was learning then 
the wonderful strength there is for weakness, in the 
knowledge that, even when we dare not ask for our- 
selves, yet our names are borne up to the Mercy- 
Seat, buoyed on the wings of prayers offered for us 
ever since childhood. It was remembering this that 
led Nathan to repeat the strength-giving promise, 
“ The Everlasting Arms are underneath and some- 
thing in the familiar words wafted him back to the 
spring-days’ ramble among the hills and woods in 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


1 1 9 

search of the first May-flowers of the year. And he 
thought of Nan, with a pang of regret that he had 
said no farewell word to her ; and, oddly, it was her 
look, and the tones of her voice, which sounded 
more vividly to his sharpened imagination and 
overwrought emotions than even Hester’s, and she 
seemed repeating the question, “ What then ? ” 
with which she had pressed his playful interpreta- 
% tion of the old legend of Saint Christopher. He 
could see the very look in her bright eyes, when, as 
Ruler after Ruler failed, he had asserted, “ Strength 
should master,” and he remembered the thrill of 
pride that beat for a second in his heart as he had 
stooped and picked up a round stone that lay in 
the pathway, and sent it whizzing through the air, 
“ high as the sky,” as little Patty had shouted. 

And now, — his vaunted strength was powerless 
as a reed bent before the wind. Meanwhile, the 
waves beat against the fragile boat, every one seem- 
ing like an echo of that repeated “What then?” 
Yes ; Nathan Parret learned that hour there was a 
Power mightier than the strength of his young 
manhood. But the other Rulers, of which Nan had 
asked, surely, surely they would prove victorious in 
life’s story, and, even in that time of sore peril, he 
thought of Love and Knowledge. 

These thoughts came trooping through his mind 


120 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


as rapidly as the clouds went scudding across the 
star-lighted sky, and, as he thus mused, the short 
mid-summer night waned, the first early beams 
of day-dawn began to flush the east. Eagerly he 
watched for the increasing light, while something in 
the shadowy gray of clouds above, and sea beneath 
filled him with a sense of awe. Perchance, too, he 
realized his position with more of reality when he 
saw the torn sail and broken oars that had been 
hidden by the darkness. He had cherished, also, 
the hope that morning would show the friendly shore 
of some near coast. But, as the day brightened, he 
looked in vain eastward and westward, to the north 
and to the south, scanning the outmost rim of the 
now clearly-defined meeting-place of sea and sky ; 
but not a rocky cliff or bold promontory reached 
out a kindly greeting to the sea-encompassed youth. 
Not even a sail did he see till the sun was well up, 
and then, as he caught a far-off gleam of one, and 
another gallant ship breasting the waves, he no 
sooner made some wild effort to call attention to 
his little boat, — that was like a mere cockle-shell 
drifting before the wind, — than straightway the ves- 
sel’s course was changed, and again he was left 
floating on and on — and so the hours wore away. 
By noon the strength of morning had gone ; he was 
hungry and thirsty ; the rays of the sun beat down 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


121 


on him in hot and angry beams. What followed, Na- 
than Parret could never distinctly recall. He was 
dimly conscious of voices, and a sudden, rushing 
motion, as though he were being borne through 
the air — and then all became a blank. 

When he woke to consciousness it was night 
again, but the dash of waves against a vessel’s side 
told him he was no longer out on the open sea, alone 
in the frail boat, for whose in-coming Captain Pickett 
and a score of men, classmates and friends, had been 
watching for twenty-four hours now. He lifted his 
head, and peered into the gloom, that was only broken 
by the dim burning of a swinging lamp, and then he 
stretched forth his hand to feel the heavy folds of 
a sea-coat that was thrown across him. Overhead, 
he heard the tramping of feet, and the monotonous 
drawl of the sailors’ “ Heave away,” as they lowered 
or raised the sails, according to the wind. And then 
he slept again — a dreamless sleep, from which he 
did not wake till mid-day, when the story of his 
rescue was briefly told. 

“ It was noontime ” — thus the Captain said — “ of 
the day before, when the man at the wheel had 
caught sight of the little pinnace ; and his well- 
trained eye had discovered in it a prostrate figure, 
and, with no delay, the long-boat had been lowered 
by the strong New Bedford men, who had plied 


122 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


their oars with a steady stroke that speedily bridged 
the distance, and Nathan, half an hour later, had 
been lifted by friendly arms to the deck of the 
whaling vessel, Mary Ann , outward bound for a 
cruise among the northern waters/' 

This is, in substance, the tale told Nathan ; and, 
after it, the kindly Captain made him welcome to 
his floating home, though no offer of money or land 
could win resolute Captain Bates to turn backward, 
for sentiment was an unknown quality in his com- 
position ; and the plea of anxious friends did not 
stir his resolve, any more than the offer of high 
compensation had done. And so Nathan Parret 
found that gold was as powerless as physical strength 
had been to turn the wheel of existence according 
to his own desire, and again he remembered Nan’s 
question, “ What then ? ” The Captain had two 
reasons for his steadfast determination to Continue 
on his voyage. One was, that any hour they might 
speak some home-bound vessel, to which Nathan 
could be transferred, and thus be in port well-nigh 
as speedily as if the Mary Ann turned about and 
set sail backward. The other reason was that, 
while Captain Bates was a God-fearing man, he had 
a sailor’s superstition ; hence he feared returning 
would involve ill-luck for the resumed voyage. 

Meanwhile, the days wore on, and though they 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


I23 


were in the latitude of in-coming and out-going ves- 
sels, they did not exchange a signal with any ship 
that hove to in Nathan’s favor. The only explana- 
tion of this was that, from the time they neared the 
‘ Banks,’ a dense fog had settled down over the sea 
like a gray veil, and with but brief glimpses of lift- 
ing vapor this continued for weeks, during which 
summer glided into early autumn. But at last there 
dawned a morning clear as the spring-time Sabbath 
Nathan remembered so well — and it was a Sunday 
morning, too. 

As soon as Nathan came on deck he lifted the 
Captain’s glass to scan the horizon, and he beheld 
the wide-spread sails and flying pinions of an ap- 
proaching vessel, that, a little later, seemed like 
some huge, white-winged bird poised in mid-air, as 
it stayed its course in response to his signal, for he 
had become a master-hand in running up the signs 
that are the telegraphy of ocean travellers. The 
vessel proved to be a French packet headed for 
Havre ; a good omen, the sailors declared, since 
sunny France was his father’s birth-land. But Na- 
than, while all aglow with eagerness over his near 
release, felt also a dull weight about his heart that 
he was to continue to go farther away from home 
and Hester. 

And now we will leave him for a while, sailing 


124 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


eastward — a slow voyage, lengthened by head- 
winds and frequent storms, but onward, neverthe- 
less. And this supplies us with a parenthesis place in 
his history, during which we will retrace our story, 
and tell what the months so full to him had brought 
to Victor and Hester, Miss Amanda and Nan 
Benson. 


II. 


M ISS AMANDA felt no special anxiety when 
Nathan did not return on the day appoint- 
ed. Indeed the week ran on, from Wednesday un- 
til Saturday, and his not coming was hardly noted. 
But when Saturday's coach came rumbling into the 
village, she was so sure he would be among the pas- 
sengers she went out to the porch, shading her eyes 
from the level rays of the sun, for it was near the 
ending of the day, — watching to catch sight of his 
well-built figure lightly springing to the ground 
from his favorite seat on the coach-box, by the side 
of Joe Prindle, the driver, who was called the best 
whip all that county-side over, and who had been 
head man on the Union line of stages as long back 
as Victor and Nathan could remember. But it was 
not Nathan who alighted. No; it was a tall, schol- 
arly-looking man, unlike the farmers round about, 
Miss Amanda could plainly see, even at that dis- 
tance ; and a sudden pang of dread foreboding 
thrilled her heart, like the touch of an ice-cold hand. 
This very sense of undefined fear gave an added 
harshness to her always high-pitched voice, as she 

(125) 


126 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

turned to Martha, her handmaid, saying : “ There’s 
something amiss with the lad, that’s my opinion.” 

“ But whatever could happen to Mr. Nathan ? ” 
the girl made answer, thinking of his strength of 
limb, rugged health, and masterful will. This re- 
ply only called forth a sharp retort from Miss 
Amanda. 

“ Have you no mind,” she said, “ to remember 
our Lord’s words, 1 In the midst of life we are in 
death’ — what, think you, would exempt Nathan 
Parret from that saying, I would like to know ? ” 
And not waiting for an answer, she turned hastily 
away, re-entering the house, and busying herself in 
some last preparations for the Sabbath, which sun- 
down would so soon usher in. 

This striving to hide natural anxiety by assumed 
indifference is a habit some people have, and unless 
we know the bygone circumstances that have led 
to it, we had better be tender and gentle in our judg- 
ments, for the sudden lifting of a veil might show 
us that which would explain much that, in our ig- 
norance, we call hardness and lack of feeling. 

And of very few lives is this more true than of 
Miss Amanda Barstow’s. Other eyes than hers 
were on the lookout for Nathan — Hester and Patty 
went as far as the garden-gate, and Nan Benson 
was standing by the turn in the road, as the coach 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


12 7 


rolled by ; Victor, too, had loitered down the long, 
shady street half an hour before, and was waiting 
on the steps of the village inn as the stage drove up. 

The gentleman whom Miss Amanda had regarded 
as a stranger, he at once recognized as Professor 
Raymond, a College officer who had shown marked 
interest in the Parret brothers. With his wonted 
ease Victor stepped forth to meet the new-comer, 
whose grave countenance told a story of sorrow, 
even before he grasped Victor’s outstretched hand. 
Together they entered the inn, the Professor paus- 
ing to close the door of the sitting-room, which 
Mrs. Mills, the thrifty hostess, had thrown wide 
open, her power of quick observation at once de- 
tecting that the stranger brought tidings of ill-omen. 

The interview was not long, for there was so little 
to tell. Nothing more than the story of a pleasure- 
boat sailing away in the sunshine, which was fol- 
lowed by a sudden darkening of the heavens, black, 
ragged clouds hiding the blue sky, while the water 
took on a sullen, gray hue, across which an oc- 
casional white-cap had glimmered like a flash of 
light against the dark background. And then the 
dull moaning of the rising wind had been followed 
by a wild sweep of a gale, a down-pour of blinding 
rain, broken by darting flashes of lurid lightning, 
and sharp, crashing peals of thunder. 


128 a MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

This was the Professor’s story, as, half an hour 
later, he repeated it to the trembling group of lis- 
teners suddenly assembled in the north parlor of 
Parret House. Mr. and Mrs. Gaylord were there, 
Hester and little Patty, Victor, Judge Benson and 
Nan, the farm-hands too, and the doctor; for the 
news that trouble had come to the Parrets had 
flown from one end to the other of the village 
street in less time than it takes to tell. 

Spite this assembled company, it was to Miss 
Amanda Professor Raymond addressed his tale, 
concluding it by a brief account of the night-long 
watch kept by Captain Pickett, and Nathan’s 
friends, for some sight of the little boat, which 
never came to shore ; and then he told of the two- 
days’ search along the coast, on both sides of the 
harbor; — a search unsuccessful up to the time of 
his starting that day, at peep of dawn, to bring 
news of the sad occurrence to the friends who loved 
Nathan best. 

There was no dwelling on details, these bare facts 
were all, and as Professor Raymond said, “ Each 
one must follow the verdict of their own judgment 
in deciding the probable fate of the brave youth.” 
And then in glowing terms he had dwelt on the 
honors that had crowned Nathan’s scholarship that 
graduation day, saying as he ended, “And with 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


I29 


such high aims and prospects before him, the lad 
never went down without a manful struggle for 
life." By these last words the Professor showed 
that he ranked among those who regarded Nathan’s 
fate as settled without so much as a ray of hope. 

In fact Mrs. Gaylord and Nan Benson were the 
only two who resolutely refused to accept as 
final the universal opinion, that Nathan had found 
a grave beneath the sea waves. Mrs. Gaylord’s 
plea for refusing to believe this, was founded on her 
claim to superior knowledge of seafaring life, which 
as a captain’s daughter, supplied her with a never- 
failing series of wonderful rescues, as she recalled 
how one and another had been cast on lonely, sel- 
dom-frequented islands, off the out-lying coast, or 
picked up by some friendly craft bound for a dis- 
tant port. It was by these tales she soothed sob- 
bing little Patty, and Nan too ; for, as she listened, 
Nan clung to them as though in very truth they 
were anchors of hope. No one else heeded Mrs. 
Gaylord’s words, save by a kindly “ It is possible,” 
straightway followed by the unlikelihood of a slight 
boat like that in which Nathan had set sail weath- 
ering a gale that had driven ashore more than one 
stout schooner, and a score of fishing-smacks. 

As for Nan, her persistent refusal to relinquish 
hope was called “mere obstinacy.” Nevertheless, 
9 


130 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


she did have hopes, and she kept them ; though, 
as the weeks counted months and no tidings 
came, she seldom gave them utterance ; while, 
night after night, she lay with wide-open eyes, her 
heart repeating: “He will come; I know he will 
come/’ 

Sorrow always tells its story differently to every 
soul into which it enters ; and when, half an hour 
after Professor Raymond’s tale, the group of mourn- 
ers — who had knelt in prayer, led by Mr. Gaylord, — 
rose from their knees, each countenance bore token 
of a dissimilar experience, either of submission or 
rebellion. And as time went on, the outward mani- 
festation of their grief continued unlike. For sor- 
rows are classified much after the definition given 
by Judge Benson’s old cook, Dinah, who asserted : 
“Thar be dem jes takes on drefful, a-weepin’ an’ 
a-wailin’, an’ dem dar be de bery ones dat slips out 
from dar woes, like de critturs wit’ de huffs slips de 
halter; — an’ dar be dem dat’s still-like, an’ dar be de 
ones dats a-feelin’ an’ a-feelin’, till, Lor’ bress ye, 
childe,” she said, looking down at Nan, “ dar a’n’t 
so mich as a pin’s p’int lef’ in dem dar hearts free 
'Jfom da ache ; an’ dem dar, da be de ones dat do 
ebefyt’^ff jis still-like, da keeps on a-smilin’ — how- 
somek r da des dat, °l e Dinah neber could makes 
out, nohP w > — but dat da be de ones dat feels de 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


131 

most an’ de longest, neber fails, do da makes no 
pe’tickler show ob dar feelinV’ 

Certainly, Dinah was right in regard to the grief 
felt over Nathan’s supposed loss, for it was true 
enough — those who took it the most quietly were 
the ones in whose hearts it found an abiding-place; 
and they were Miss Amanda, and, little as the 
world thought it, Nan Benson. 

Hester, at first, was utterly prostrated by the 
news, and when, at the end of a month, she began 
to rally, and resumed her wonted occupations, there 
was for a time a pensive sadness in her look and man- 
ner that seemed like the shadowy mist of an August 
morning. But when October came, the sadness, like 
the mist, had lifted and gone, and in its place there had 
come a sudden radiance, like the encompassing of 
rosy light contrasted with the recent shadows. 

Do not call sweet Hester heartless, because of 
this. It was not that she forgot ; that could not 
be, when her love for Nathan was the sincere love 
of a sister for a dear brother, for whom she still 
mourned, though with grief assuaged ; but she was 
living those days in the dream-like gladness of Vic- 
tor’s frequent companionship and openly-declared 
affection ; in response to which she had promised to 
wed him when the spring came again. For his 
whispered declaration of love had, with no delay, 


132 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


broken down the hedge of reserve with which Hes- 
ter had guarded her heart, even from herself. It was a 
quiet happiness she felt, and not altogether unshad- 
owed ; for, being profoundly true, the remembrance 
that Nathan had misunderstood her caused a pang 
of regret, almost as though she had been really 
guilty of wilful deceit, and she now, from her own 
love for Victor, so well knew what, for a time, she 
had only surmised. She told Victor her regret 
over that thoughtless hand-clasp, and he strove to 
comfort her by tender words, and the sad fact — as 
they both believed — that it made little difference, 
since Nathan had passed beyond the need of mor- 
tal love. In reply, Hester had softly whispered: 
“ And perhaps he knows all about it now, and then 
he knows I did not mean to deceive.” And yet, it 
was the night after this conversation that she 
dreamed again that Nathan called her, and, as she 
replied, Victor called too, and his voice seemed to 
hush the sound of her answer. 

To Victor, Nathan’s supposed loss was a great 
shock, and during the summer days that followed 
the sad news, the better part of his nature was in 
the ascendency. This served to deepen Mr. and 
Mrs. Gaylord’s, as well as Hester’s, blindness to 
his real weakness of principle, and light esteem 
for the subjects most sacred and dear to them. 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


133 


And so it happened the parents consented to 
Hester’s engagement, while she gave him the very- 
best of all she had — her sweet, pure, and true 
woman’s heart. 

But if the trial of Nathan’s loss became less keen, 
with every passing week, to Hester and to his brother, 
time only served to deepen Miss Amanda’s grief. 
Not that she made any special show of it, for she 
went about her daily tasks with even more of en- 
ergetic foresight, and enforcement of duty among 
the men and maids employed on the farm and in 
the dairy. She assumed, also, a manner sterner 
than her wont, while, at the same time, she daily 
grew more tender to everything that could suffer, 
from a human heart to the least of the dumb 
creatures, around which centre so many of the in- 
terests and cares of life to farmer-folk. She remem- 
bered, too, to scatter once or twice a week a hand- 
ful of crumbs on the ledge of the window-sill in Na- 
than’s little room, — “ that,” as she said to herself, 
“ the birds might find a meal ready for their seek- 
ing.” This had been a boyish custom of Nathan’s, 
and often sternly rebuked by the thrifty house- 
keeper; and yet, now, she never scattered those 
crumbs without turning from the window with a 
dimness in her eyes. 

The effect of sorrow on Nan Benson was still 


134 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


different — she never shed a tear, in public. Her 
manner, too, was much the same, and her words 
still bright, sparkling, and positive, and yet there 
was an indescribable change. She had a strong 
nature, and she suffered proportionately. She was 
brave too, and she made no effort to run away 
from her sorrow, though she tried to conceal it 
from all eyes, save the One of All Pity ; for it was 
in God’s sight she summoned up her courage to 
meet it. And it was thus she gained strength to 
encounter the every-day duties of life with cheer- 
fulness. Not that Nan made quick progress in 
learning patience and submission ; she was too im- 
pulsive and eager-tempered for that, yet the dis- 
cipline of sorrow was bringing out the earnest side 
of her character, and she daily developed more of 
helpfulness toward others, and less thought for 
herself. 

Though Hester Gaylord had always been some- 
thing sweet as a poem to Miss Amanda, and she 
had been in the habit of calling Nan “a light- 
hearted, giddy young creature,” there was a de- 
cided reversal in her feelings those weeks ; for, with 
no word spoken, this stiff, angular New England 
spinster read the girl’s story as plainly as though 
it had been traced on a printed page, and, some- 
how, Nan knew this; for love is quick of insight, 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


135 


and she recognized that no one — save herself — 
mourned for Nathan as Miss Amanda did. Thus 
these two women — the one in the autumn, the 
other in the spring-time of life — came close to- 
gether; and yet Miss Amanda Barstow did not 
open the long-shut door of her heart, to let the 
young girl look within, and catch a glimpse of a 
grave hidden there for years and years. No ! there 
was no outward show of sentiment between the 
two ; it was simply that the tangled, broken threads 
left out in the weaving of her own life’s pattern 
made the older woman understand there were, also, 
stitches dropped in the younger woman’s, and Nan 
— it was all plain to her. 

Meanwhile, those tangled threads and dropped 
stitches, in both hearts, were waiting for the last 
great weaving, when the pattern we call imperfect, 
the threads we call twisted and tangled, and the 
dropped stitches, will be gathered up and smoothed 
out by Him of the Seamless Robe. And then — 
think of the rounded soul, that will look out no 
longer from a fragmentary, broken life, but from one 
in which the mortal shall have put on immortality. 
Think of it ! — and — “ these are they which came out 
of great tribulation, and have washed their robes, 
and made them white in the blood of the Lamb, 
therefore are they before the throne of God, and 


136 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

9erve Him day and night.” Meanwhile, “Blessed 
are they that are Homesick, for they shall come at 
last to the Father’s House.” 

“Our Father’s House, I know, is broad and grand; 

In it how many, many mansions are ! ” 


III. 


I T was autumn when Nathan bade farewell to 
the Captain and crew of the whaling vessel, the 
Mary Ann of New Bedford ; and the weeks which 
followed before land was at last sighted held for 
him an entirely new experience. One thing only 
remained unchanged, and that was the wide stretch 
of surrounding water, with the over-arching sky 
above. 

The Captain of the French ship proved to be a 
courtly gentleman, and Nathan’s story at once 
called forth the inborn chivalry and romance of his 
French nature. He was quick, also, to appreciate 
the youth’s eagerness to let those at home know of 
his safety, as well as his restless desire to hear from 
them, and he felt a kindly sympathy for the im- 
patience over the long delay, which sometimes 
gained mastery over Nathan’s usual self-control, 
becoming a longing so intense that he was well-nigh 
wild with homesickness. Captain Girard skilfully 
met these moods by urging the preparation of let- 
ters that could be despatched homeward with the 
good tidings, immediately after arrival at Havre ; 

(i37) 


138 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

at the same time, he encouraged Nathan to hope 
that they would pass some outward-bound ship of 
the line, to which he promised at once to transfer 
him. But this did not occur, and, as they neared 
port, Nathan daily became more perplexed in an- 
ticipation of arriving a stranger in a strange land, 
without money or friends. For the Barret family 
were residents of Southern France, and thus, for 
immediate aid, beyond his reach. This trouble 
Captain Gerard met by assurances of prompt as- 
sistance from the American Consul, as soon as Na- 
than’s story was made known. The only difficulty, 
as he said, would be his detention in France till re- 
plies and moneys were received in response to the 
letters sent home. This proved to be the case, and 
it involved a stay reaching on till spring, and long 
after; but that Nathan did not know, till those let- 
ters came. His perplexities allayed, Nathan’s heart 
beat high with joy on the morning when he awoke 
to find himself within sight of his father’s birth- 
land, la belle France. Till toward mid-day, the ship 
coasted near shore, but at noon-time the city of 
Havre appeared, and an hour later the vessel was 
at safe anchorage. 

Only those who have gone through some such 
experience as Nathan’s, can picture the gladness of 
once again setting foot on dry land. And every- 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


x 39 


thing in the, to him, strange new world of the for- 
eign city, seemed to bid him welcome. He smiled 
to find the earth so beautiful and glad a place. The 
weather was fair and sunshiny ; the streets full of 
well-dressed, light-hearted people, all intent on cel- 
ebrating a fete-day, and all smiling and chattering, 
with the complete abandonment to pleasure which 
is wont to mark a Frenchman’s holiday. Music 
and flowers were at every corner; and after Nathan 
left the crowded wharf, and, accompanied by Cap- 
tain Gerard, climbed the hill on which the hand- 
some part of the town is built, and where the 
American Consul resided, it seemed to him no city 
could be more beautiful, and that flowers made 
every courtyard a garden of brightness. The fantas- 
tically-trimmed trees, and the style of architecture, 
so unlike that of his native land, gave a charm, also, 
to the least detail of his surroundings. But, with- 
out telling of the weeks which followed, we will 
speed on to Nathan’s arrival at the home from 
which his father had gone forth, an exile, so many 
years before. 

It was the mystic hour between daylight and 
dark, when he alighted from the diligence in which 
the latter part of his journey had been accom- 
plished ; and as he approached the entrance to the 
old Chateau, for a moment seen in the dim light, 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


140 

all was so like the southern entrance to Parret 
House he felt, almost, as though he were home 
again, and as though kind Miss Amanda would be 
the first to greet him when the closed door opened. 
But this feeling was only for a moment ; the next 
second, he realized the New England homestead, 
even with its “ Chateau-side,” was a miniature build- 
ing compared with the imposing edifice before 
which he now stood, and whose present occupant 
was a distant cousin of his father’s. 

Nathan had written this M. le Conte of his stress, 
and in reply had received a stately summons to the 
ancestral home. Victor, too, had described his 
brief stay with M. le Conte when in France, so that 
Nathan was in some measure prepared for the 
formal, yet courteous greeting that awaited him. 
But it was a keen disappointment to find his aged 
cousin infirm, and so far weakened in mind, that 
his memories of Nathan’s father were dim and un- 
satisfactory ; while Madame, though younger, was a 
second wife, and knew but little of the branch of the 
Parret family from which Nathan traced descent. 
But she was a bright, warm-hearted little lady, and 
what she lacked in knowledge of the Parret family 
she made up by her hospitable greeting and cordial 
good-will, which bade Nathan regard the Chateau 
as home for as long a time as he could remain con- 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


141 

tent with the quiet ways of an aged relative like M. 
le Conte, and “a lady old as herself,” — as brisk 
little Madame enjoyed repeating. And she did 
seem old to Nathan, for youth is apt to measure 
age from its own stand-point, and we all know a 
year at twenty counts for double the same length 
of time at forty — what then must it be at sixty, 
and on ? a mere hand’s-breadth, I think. But if old, 
according to time’s record, Madame Parret was a 
child in her youngness of soul. For she had a 
happy, sweet nature, and a bright way of seeing the 
cheerful side, even of shadowed hours. Hence, she 
was one of those for whom there is no such thing 
as “ old age.” In appearance, she was like some 
quaint figure belonging to a courtly scene. She 
was petite, and quick and brisk in movement, with 
a pronounced step, unlike the languid grace of the 
present day, or the, at that time, stately repose of 
a high-born English dame; for this little French 
Madame put down her slender feet, encased in high- 
heeled satin slippers, with a distinct pat-a-pat that re- 
sounded on the uncarpeted floors of the salon and 
wide halls of the Chateau. 

As for the little lady’s face, it bore evidence of 
her social rank, as well as told of fineness of char- 
acter. Her eyebrows were delicately traced, as 
though pencilled, and she had a way of raising them 


142 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


which served to point an interrogation, or express 
surprise, either of pleasure or disapproval, which 
was quite as effective as uttered words. The eyes 
beneath those arched brows were gray, and kindly 
— keen-sighted, too, even in age. A small, aquiline 
nose added to the general delicacy of her counten- 
ance, spite the dark complexion which told of life- 
long exposure to Southern sunshine. Her lips were 
thin, with a firmness about the lines of the mouth 
which indicated that she was one accustomed to 
rule. In dress, she manifested the dainty taste of a 
true Frenchwoman, and, withal, she was so spright- 
ly and animated Nathan never wearied of her so- 
ciety during the months of his stay at the Chateau ; 
for, with every new day, her conversation seemed 
to him like some fresh page of a story of unfailing 
interest. 

Thus it happened, that many of the hours feeble 
M. le Conte spent sleeping peacefully in his high- 
backed easy-chair, Madame filled for Nathan with 
tales of her youth, and stories and legends that 
were woven of fact and fiction, poetry and prose. 
And often, in imagination, they were both wafted 
far away from their present surroundings to some 
bygone time and scene — one hour enjoying the so- 
ciety of the Paris salons , the next entering into the 
wild turmoil and strife of battle ; or, perchance, 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


143 


Madame’s tale would be of quiet cloister and saint- 
ly hermit, or of gay troubadours and wayside sing- 
ers from the sunny plains of Tuscany. 

Thus entertained, the season of Nathan’s waiting 
for tidings from home went by quickly, while it was 
a pleasant time ; for, added to Madame’s even-tide 
reminiscences, there were the long days during 
which he had nothing to do but enjoy the beauty 
of Nature, or the companionship of books. And, 
while an earnest soul like his could not lose the 
impression of the Unseen and Beyond to which he 
had been brought so near that night of the storm, 
this did not prevent the latent joyfulness of his 
temperament from shining out those weeks, like 
hidden-away sunshine that had till then been held 
half in check, partly by the rugged New England 
climate, and partly by the grave seriousness of the 
people among whom he had lived ; in part, too, by 
his own nature ; for it was one of the contradictions 
in Nathan’s character that, while he possessed light- 
heartedness, it was always blended with serious- 
ness, and he was never gay, like Victor, for his en- 
joyment was always quiet and restrained, even 
when at its height, as it was during that time, when 
every day opened for him a new page of Nature’s full 
book of fresh delights, beginning with his first look 
in the morning, and not ending till his last at night. 


144 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


From the windows of his room, he had a wide 
view of hill-slopes clothed in the green of olives and 
dusky pines, while, beyond, mountains lifted high 
their peaks towering skyward, and here and there 
broken by the dazzling white of some snow-capped 
summit. The nearer prospect was the hillside vine- 
yard, with a glimpse into the valley at its base, 
sunny and green at that season of the year, with 
golden lights flitting among the olive-trees, and 
casting clearly-defined blue shadows across the close- 
ly-mown grass. But it was in wandering among 
the hills that Nathan found the wider out-looks, 
that so often he recalled in after-days ; and there 
were hills and hills to wander among, so thickly 
were they clustered around the old Chateau. From 
one special hill that he climbed more than once, he 
could see the country spread out like a map before 
him — on one side bounded by a mountain range, 
cloven here and there by precipitous ravines, where 
mysterious shadows lurked even at mid-day; the 
entire landscape being wild, solemn, and solitary, 
and in sharp contrast to the view he caught by 
merely turning from one point of the compass to 
the other. For then his gaze extended over a wide 
valley, through which a river wound its way, gleam- 
ing in the sunshine like a silvery ribbon drawn 
across green fields, while here and there faint, hazy 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


*45 


lines of smoke curled skyward from some lonely 
chateau, convent, or remote village. Far away in 
the distance he could trace, also, a shadowy blue 
line, like a patch of sky dropped earthward, and he 
knew that bit of blue meant the waters of the Med- 
iterranean. But deeper in interest than glimpses 
of far-away sea, mountain, or plain, were the sights 
of the village through which Nathan passed on his 
way to and from the wooded hills. It was di- 
vided by a narrow street, roughly paved with un- 
even stones, over which diligence, and charette, and 
heavily-laden wains rumbled, waking echoing sounds, 
that blended with the tinkling bells on the horses’ 
necks ; the song of the nightingales ; and voices of 
the peasants calling to one another, or singing some 
wild tune that caught a softened note as it mingled 
with the sound of the convent bell, that came float- 
ing down from the high cliff of the near mountain- 
side, on whose breezy height it was perched, like 
an eagle’s nest. There were also the dark-eyed 
peasant women for Nathan to gaze and wonder 
at, as on their well-poised heads they dexterously 
balanced earthen jugs, filled to the very brim ; 
or baskets laden with snowy linen, pure and 
white, from the bleaching-fields over by the brook- 
side. These were but few of the sights and sounds 
which made the busy life of that little village of 


io 


j 4 6 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


Southern France more interesting to him than the 
grand scenery Nature spread so bountifully on 
every side. 

It was a simple life he led, free from all disturb- 
ing influences ; and afterward, when he remembered 
that time, it stood out like a fresh, green oasis in 
the midst of a wide stretch of desert sand. Mean- 
while, the western winds that were swelling the 
buds on the orange and lemon-trees, and waking up 
the flowers on hill-sides and in valleys, were bringing 
nearer that white-winged ship bearing across the 
wide Atlantic the replies to his home-sent letters ; 
— replies that were to darken the sky for Nathan 
with a darkness as much deeper than the sudden 
overcasting of cloud and storm the July afternoon 
that had floated him out seaward, as midnight is 
darker than twilight. But no forecasting shadow 
of the nearing storm warned him of this, and never 
had his thoughts of Hester Gaylord been dearer 
and more full of hope than they were then, as he 
found, when he told Madame Parret of her, and of 
his far-away home. 

A tender intimacy had sprung up between Ma- 
dame and Nathan, hence she listened to his words 
with a warmth of interest that stirred her own heart 
with a pulse-beat of memory that dated back to a 
year when she, too, had known the spring-time of 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


M7 

love. Nathan’s voice had vibrated with feeling as 
he pictured Hester, the Puritan maiden, stately and 
calm as a white lily, with a countenance sweet and 
holy as the face of the gentle Mary that hung above 
the altar in the parish church ; and his heart was 
full of gladness, so near seemed the beautiful future, 
which was only a vision, but, later on, to become a 
blessed reality. “Yes, surely a reality,” he whis- 
pered to himself ; while, as Madame hearkened to 
his uttered words, she smiled, and thought, and 
sighed — for, somehow, aging people are wont to 
blend a sigh with a smile, as they listen to the 
dreams of youth. 

When Nathan came to the end of his tale, with 
the rare tact this old French lady possessed, by in- 
heritance as well as culture, she gracefully caught 
the thread that hangs like a dropped stitch from 
every story which, in its telling, has deeply moved 
the heart, and which snaps and breaks, unless the 
one who has occupied the place of listener tenderly 
takes it up, and weaves it in with some recountal 
of an interest of their own, and thus knots fast 
the bond of mutual confidence given and received. 
It is after such interweaving that friendship blos- 
soms into a wide-open flower, that never fades. 
For true friendship is fadeless, it being a plant that 
up-springs in human hearts from seeds of the “ Tree, 


1 48 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 

every leaf of which is for the healing of the nations,” 
for its root is Love. 

Madame’s story was only a bit out of her own 
life, — a mere scrap — but it was enough. As she 
concluded it, M. le Conte stirred, and then awoke 
from his after-dinner nap, coming back to conscious- 
ness with more of intelligence than he had shown 
at any time since Nathan’s arrival. Perchance the 
reason may have been that even his dulled senses 
caught the rustling of angels’ wings hovering near. 
For the angels had been very near, as Madame and 
Nathan had opened wide the doors of the inner 
sanctuary of their hearts ; for, surely, angels are the 
bringers of holy thoughts, pure love, and earnest 
desire after the best and truest things that earth 
gives in anticipation of Heaven ; and of such things 
they had spoken. 

It was that hour, just before the good-nights were 
said, that Madame told Nathan that on the morrow 
a new interest was to enter the old Chateau, for M. 
le Conte’s widowed sister, Madame Valais, and her 
daughter Victorine, were to come from Paris, to 
meet the early spring, there, in the heart of the 
southern country. Victorine was called for the same 
forefather in whose honor Victor had been named, 
and Victor had met this young French cousin — 
thus Madame said — on his last year’s visit to the 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


149 


Chateau. And she added : “ Of your brother you 
will speak, and speaking of the absent, bridges di- 
viding miles, for words of affection are like a fairy 
chain, spanning time and distance.” 

But, alas ! there are words and words ; and some 
widen the dividing space, rather than narrow it ! 


IV. 


M ADAME VALAIS and Victorine arrived at 
the appointed hour, and when, toward sun- 
down, Nathan returned from a long ramble among 
the wooded heights overhanging the village, his 
first sight of the Chateau announced the event, by 
the mute sign of open doors and wide-flung jalou- 
sies. As he crossed the courtyard, he became con- 
scious, also, of a stir in the quiet wont to reign over 
the place. 

An hour later, on entering the salon , he became 
even more keenly aware of the change the arrival 
of the ladies had already effected. It was the first 
time he had seen Madame Parret in full evening 
dress, and for a moment he half failed to recognize 
his old friend in the gaily-attired little lady, who, 
by an imperious wave of her fan, bade him ap- 
proach, as she presented him to the new-comers. 
He missed the familiar sight of her glossy black- 
satin gown, the sombreness of which had been 
rarely relieved by so much as a gay ribbon, a flower 
fresh from the garden being Madame’s favorite or- 
namentation. But this simplicity seemed now a 
(150) 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


151 

thing of the past. For Madame Valais, too, was 
dressed after the most recent fashion of the French 
Court, wearing a skirt of crimson velvet, looped 
back from a petticoat of brocaded satin of a darker 
shade, while the bodice of her gown consisted of a 
gauzy mass of the figured blonde lace then in vogue. 

To Nathan, used as he was to the studied plain- 
ness of the New England matrons and maidens, 
these gay costumes were distasteful ; at the same 
time he regarded them with a certain interest, much 
like that with which he often lingered to gaze on 
the quaint portraits that lined the walls of the cen- 
tral hall of the Chateau. And, in fact, the ladies 
seemed to him like the courtly dames represented 
in those old-time pictures, suddenly vivified into 
life and motion. 

It was with a sense of relief he turned to the 
young girl standing within the shadow of the high, 
carved mantel-shelf — a relief blended with pleasure, 
for Victorine Valais was an unusually attractive 
type of a French girl ; her charm consisting chiefly 
in an undefined grace that pervaded her personali- 
ty, and in a constantly-varying expression of coun- 
tenance which caught the imagination. 

But trying to picture her by words is much like 
trying to cage, in set, formal phrase, the song of 
birds, now loud and joyous, and then soft and low ; 


152 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


or the color of flowers when violets, roses, and scar- 
let poppies grow side by side ; for she was a creature 
of moods and tempers as various as these differing 
types, combining, as she did, the versatile tempera- 
ment and light-heartedness of her race with an under- 
tone plaintiveness. She was entirely natural, and free 
from constraint, in her intercourse with Nathan ; and 
before the month ended they were more like brother 
and sister than distant cousins, in their enjoyment of 
the opening spring unfolding around them with the 
rapidity which only belongs to the south ; and which 
was to Nathan a perpetual wonder and delight, con- 
trasted with New England’s slow opening of leaf 
and flower, and blighting chill of frost, with snow- 
falls even late as March and April. Verily, remem- 
bering this, it was no wonder his native land 
seemed all unlike that sunny corner of France, 
where sometimes flowers, trees, and shrubs budded 
and blossomed between the dawning and the end- 
ing of one brief day. For often, going out in the 
early morning, Nathan passed magnolia-trees, misty 
with their weight of unopened buds, and returning 
at nightfall, the very same trees were laden with a 
wealth and beauty of blooming flowers ; while the 
fields, green at sunrise, by noon-time were blue with 
the blossoms of the grape hyacinth; and strag- 
gling branches of climbing rose-bushes had sudden- 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


153 


ly bloomed into pink, yellow, and white loveliness. 
As for anemones, narcissuses, white and blue irises, 
and violets, — sweet as miniature globes of fra- 
grance, — they were scattered on every side as thickly 
as though all the land were a garden of wild-flowers. 

This was Nathan’s impression of spring in France, 
when the season was only late February, a month 
when memory told him at home the snow lay drift- 
ed high round Parret House, while the flowers were 
still fast asleep under the warm mantle of winter’s 
white snow-robe of charity. The waters of the rip- 
pling brooklet he knew, too, were hushed by their 
icy covering, while over the creeks, lakes, and rivers, 
there stretched a wide expanse of frozen water, 
solid as rock and clear as crystal. 

But Nathan’s thoughts found many other sub- 
jects to ponder those days, beside the unlike climate 
of his own land and his father’s. Looking back on 
that time, years afterward, he often wondered at 
the entire freedom with which Madame Valais left 
Victorine at liberty to follow the dictates of her 
own will — a will which led the young girl to spend 
many of those sunshiny hours in reading or talk- 
ing with Nathan, as together they sauntered to and 
fro through the broad avenues, or wandered into 
the orange-grove, and sometimes beyond, far even 
as to the vineyard hill-slope. The explanation of 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


1 54 

Madame Valais’ release of Victorine from restraint 
arose from the fact that she had decided that, in 
the festival month of May, her daughter’s long- 
contemplated marriage to a French officer should 
take place; and hence she left her free to enjoy 
those last months of her girlhood, and having told 
Nathan of Victorine’s betrothal, she felt no anxiety 
on his account ; she also told him her conversation 
was a repetition of one she had had with Victor on 
the same subject, during his visit to the Chateau. 

As Madame made this statement, Victorine stood 
by her garden-chair, idly pulling the leaves from a 
yellow rose, and at her mother’s words, the young 
girl’s eyes had darkened and flashed, as though with 
sudden anger ; and yet, the next minute she had 
sped across the open courtyard, in as gay and eager 
pursuit of a bright-winged butterfly as if she were a 
child like Patty Gaylord. Later, when conversing 
with Nathan, Madame Parret referred to Victorine’s 
bright prospects, saying, her future husband was a 
man well on in life, who would be like a father to 
the young girl. And with an approving smile, the 
little French lady had lifted her arched brows in 
token that it was a matter for general congratula- 
tion. 

But what did Victorine think ? This was a ques- 
tion Nathan pondered more than once, as he noted 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


155 


her changing moods — one minute gay, the next 
grave. At last he came to know, for she was not 
one to withhold confidence from a sympathetic and 
interested listener. 

It was early March when she told him ; by every 
in-coming mail, now, he was looking to receive the 
long-expected replies to his home letters. Victor- 
ine knew this, and she knew, too, his only regret at 
leaving France would be the parting from Madame. 
But she did not know that he combined this regret 
with glad anticipations for a speedy return with 
his hoped-for bride, Hester Gaylord, whose wel- 
come by Madame he had more than once pictured. 
But as he wove bright fancies of that time, he 
never walked through the olive-woods, for there 
was something in the subdued green of their heavy 
foliage that cast a shadow over him. Perhaps — 
though he did not define it — the emotions came 
from his knowledge that not yet had he taken one 
upward step toward the ascent of the spiritual 
Mount of Olives, the way walked by those who 
have humbly submitted self-will to God’s will. 

Yet it was in the shade of the olive-trees he and 
Victorine were sauntering, when she told him her 
story. The first part he had heard from Madame 
Parret, but the end was entirely unexpected. Victor- 
ine began by a graceful, picturesque recountal of 


X^6 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

Victor’s visit to the Chateau the year before, and she 
ended it by saying : “ I was very happy, very gay 
then ; life, like the sky, was all sunshine.” And 
she trembled like a rose-tree blown by the wind, 
while tears fell from her bright eyes, like dew-drops 
from the rose’s heart when the breeze stirs its tender 
leaves. 

But as this is not the story of Victorine Valais, 
enough for us to know the simple facts, so far as 
they touch Nathan Parret. And they were that 
Victor, for the sake of passing pleasure, and to en- 
liven a dull visit at the old Chateau, had won the 
young girl’s love as carelessly as he gathered a 
flower to wear in his buttonhole. And then, mere- 
ly because he enjoyed the excitement, — with no 
thought of what it might cost Victorine, — he had, 
on leaving France, opened a correspondence with 
her, that involved intrigue and concealment on her 
part. 

As she told this, she seemed to Nathan as dull 
and senseless as a stone in the roadway to the 
deceit she had practiced, and he turned from her 
in hot anger; the knowledge, also, that his own 
brother should have thus trifled with the girl’s 
heart, hurt him keenly as a blow. But after a mo- 
ment he remembered, in the fact that Victor was 
his brother lay Victorine’s claim to his counsel, and 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


157 


so he could not refuse it ; he was influenced, too, 
by a certain sway which Victor always exercised 
over him. It came from two causes — one, the being 
true himself, he was not suspicious ; the other, that 
he was always more eager to find excuse than to 
find fault with Victor, for he saw all the good there 
was in him ; it being a fact that, in our thoughts of 
those dear to us, we lift or lower them, according 
to our own level. 

As for Nathan’s advice to Victorine, it was 
summed up in the immediate duty of telling her 
mother the childish scheme she had woven to es- 
cape marriage in May — a foolish plan, to which 
Victor had lightly replied by the promise of a letter 
of details later on, which of course never came — 
Victorine’s idea having been that he would re-cross 
the Atlantic, and then a hasty wedding, to be fol- 
lowed by flight to America and the New England 
homestead. 

It was singular that, as Nathan listened to Vic- 
torine’s words, Hester’s truthful soul came to his 
memory as vividly as if he had been looking on a 
picture in which it was contrasted with Victorine’s 
lack of truthfulness in principle ; and he never for- 
got the thankfulness with which that memory 
thrilled his heart, and which did not fail him even 
amid the dark hours that so speedily followed. 


158 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

For as he and Victorine passed out from the 
shadows of the olive-trees, sorrow met him, and yet 
it was heralded, and welcomed as a longed-for joy. 
Madame Parret was the bringer of the news. She 
approached with a brisk step, waving gaily a white 
package, that Nathan straightway knew to be the 
home letters, come at last ! With her pretty 
French way of encompassing every event, however 
slight, with a bit of poetry, Madame, just before 
she handed them to him, gathered a long tendril 
from a climbing rose that clung for support around 
a solitary olive that grew by the roadside, and 
playfully she twined the flowery garland, in all its 
pink beauty, about the package, saying, “ An omen 
of good, flowers from home ! ” 

To the last day of his life, Nathan, after that 
hour, could never see a cluster of Provence roses 
without seeing also, the look of dismay on kindly 
Madame’s face as, in his haste to take the letters, 
he grasped with them, not only the roses, but a 
thorn, that tore deep across the open palm of his 
hand. 


V. 


T HOUGH Nathan had been so eager to hold 
in his very own grasp the precious words 
from home, all a New Englander’s reserve re- 
strained him from breaking so much as one seal 
till he was alone in his own room. And that was 
not for full two hours, as the formal dinner inter- 
vened. When at last the coveted seclusion came, 
he still hesitated, as one is so apt to do in moments 
of deep emotion. He even spread the half-dozen 
white missives out before him on the table, and 
studied the familiar writing on each, as though in 
some mystic fashion the hearts of the dear writers 
smiled at him from the pen and ink superscriptions. 

Six letters ! And all traced by different hands, 
all outcomes from different hearts, no wonder they 
were a study ! Largest of all was the one ad- 
dressed in Miss Amanda’s straight-up-and-down 
writing. Next came a goodly-sized missive, bearing 
the sign of Mr. Gaylord’s scholarly penmanship. 
Next a document from Judge Benson. Then came 
Victor’s letter, and close beside it a dainty epistle 
from Hester, with something of grace even in its 

(159) 


160 a MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 

folding and address. The last was hardly more than 
a note, from Nan Benson. Looking at them, lying 
side by side, making a white island on the scarlet 
and gold of the heavily embroidered table-cover, 
again Nathan followed a contradictory impulse, and 
opened the one he least cared for first, and that 
was Judge Benson’s, which contained kindly con- 
gratulations over his safety, followed by business 
details, and enclosures necessary to refund the 
moneys advanced him, as well as to defray the ex- 
pense of his return home. After scanning the chief 
items of the Judge’s letter, Nathan broke the seal 
of Mr. Gaylord’s. And though he was not given 
to outward show of emotion, tears filled his eyes 
as he read the good minister’s strong words of 
heartfelt joy over his safety, and earnest pleading 
that this experience might lead him to a full and 
entire consecration of his soul to the service of the 
Lord, who had so protected him amid the perils of 
stormy wind and wrecking wave. 

“ Without this consecration,” Mr. Gaylord wrote, 
“ you will be as a leaf blown by the wind, ever rest- 
less from the never-ceasing conflict of conscience 
with self-will — you will constantly encounter also 
responsibilities beyond your own unaided re- 
sources.” It was thus, by the coming of this letter 
just when it did, that the second time when Nathan 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. jgj 

Parret stood on the threshold of a new life, he was 
met by our Lord’s call, bidding him walk a path of 
peace, even though his way lead through a desert 
of disappointment. I use the words ‘ a new life,’ in 
the sense that no life can be the same, after intense 
experiences of either profound joy or sorrow. 

But, as at the first call, so now again at the sec- 
ond, Nathan did not accept the peace offered, for 
not yet was he willing to relinquish his pride of 
self-power and self-will. Not yet had he tested 
and found empty of the 1 highest good,’ service 
under the different Rulers, whom he had told Nan 
he would try, if one and then another failed him. 
And yet, that very hour, he would fain have crept 
somewhere and hid himself like a weary child in a 
mother’s arms. 

Mr. Gaylord’s letter had ended with the hope 
that Nathan would be home in time for the day 
that, now that mourning for him had given place 
to thanksgiving, was looked forward to as a season 
of unmarred joy. But the words, as he read them, 
conveyed no special meaning to Nathan ; neither 
did Mrs. Gaylord’s motherly postscript, nor Patty’s. 
He only smiled at the child’s loyal way of express- 
ing her affection in the message printed beneath 
her mother’s. It read : “ Dear Nathan, I ask God 
to bring you home safe, and I thank Him for 


n 


1 62 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

keeping you alive. And I love you always, as my 
best brother.” Strange words for the child to use, 
trained, as she was, in a home where partiality was 
something unknown ; but then Patty, Nathan re- 
membered, had always been a child of surprises. 

Next, he opened Miss Amanda’s letter, which 
was so like herself, full of suppressed tenderness 
and joy that “ her boy,” as she called him, was safe 
and coming home ; and yet, blended in with this 
gladness, were reproofs for his lack of watchfulness 
of the sky that July day. Miss Amanda’s language, 
too, was formal, after the fashion of New England 
people ; and if warm-hearted and warm-spoken Ma- 
dame Parret had read those pages, truly she would 
have thought the American spinster of as chilly a 
nature as the climate of her native land was chilly 
and cold. But Nathan knew better; he could read 
between the lines, and the love that spoke there 
was warm and tender as a caress. 

It was not till near the end of her letter that Miss 
Amanda mentioned Hester, and then merely by a 
word, in which Nathan heard no warning note ; 
though afterward, he recalled the lines, and under- 
stood their import, for Miss Amanda dwelt on the 
changes the spring would bring, with its unlooked- 
for event ; in the same connection referring to the 
struggle it had cost her to submit to the Lord’s 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. ^3 

will, when she thought Nathan had found a watery 
grave ; adding, “ Remember, Nathan, the lesson I 
then learned was that the sooner, in all trials, 
one yields their will to the Lord’s, the sooner comes 
peace ; for, without submission, one’s heart is little 
better than a wrecked ship, or a drift of tangled 
sea-weed.” 

When at last he came to the end of Miss Aman- 
da’s long epistle, he broke the seal of Nan’s brief 
note, which contained not a word about herself, 
though every letter shone like a diamond-point of 
brightness, reflecting gladness over his safety ; — of 
Hester, Nan wrote : “ She was like a broken lily 
when first the woful tidings came, for Hester loves 
you, as if you were in very truth her brother ; al- 
ways remember this, dear Nathan.” At these 
words, for the first time since he began to read the 
home-letters, the shadow of a frown darkened Na- 
than’s brow ; but, later on, he thanked Nan for their 
tenderness, just as he did for the half-page which 
read : “ How hard it is to keep in mind, when it is 
night with us, that the daylight brightness is on 
the other side, and the world goes round ; — never 
came a night yet that was so long but that, at last, 
the morning dawned ! ” 

Victor’s letter, now ; and as Nathan read it — as 
he had done while reading the others — he held Hes- 


164 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

ter’s in the firm clasp of his strong right hand, for, 
in his sureness of her love, there was a certain 
pleasure to him in thus keeping her words, as he 
would have kept some holy thing, for perusal when 
others of lesser value were put on one side. But 
that joyful reading, so surely anticipated, was not 
to be ; for Victor’s letter brought the pang — after 
which, like some bird hurt at the moment of swift- 
est flight, joy lay a wounded thing in Nathan Par- 
ret’s heart for many a long year. 

Victor’s preface was a page of congratulations, 
and plans for Nathan’s return home — and then, 
with no word of preparation, came the sentence, 
“ for home you must be in time for my wedding- 
day, May 19th. — Was ever bride so fair, think you, 
as mine, sweet Hester Gaylord, will be? ” Hester 
Gaylord ! The words seemed to Nathan written in 
fire — but there are hours in every life which cannot 
be told of, and those which followed were such hours 
to Nathan Parret. During them he never once 
loosened his hold of Hester’s note, while over and 
over he murmured, in his grief : “ Hester, my stolen 
treasure ! cruel destiny, that has robbed me of my 
darling ! My treasure is stolen from me — stolen by 
my own brother ! ” 

And so the hours wore on ; it was not till the 
flickering light of the lamp began to grow pale and 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. ^5 

sickly before the brighter shining of a new day, 
that he realized the night had come and gone since 
he read Victor’s words. And yet, was it only one 
night ? — already it seemed a lifelong pain and dis- 
appointment. But it was only one night ! 

The first blow that comes, shaking like an earth- 
quake the hopes of a young heart, is wont to be 
thus crushing ; and though hopes may again bud and 
blossom above the ruins, as they do after an earth- 
quake, they are never the same hopes. Sorrow is 
like sin, in this : once fall, and however high one 
may afterward rise, there is always a scar in the 
background. Nature, only, is entirely able to put 
aside all traces of former ruin ; man may hide from 
man, but memory never dies; but, “in nature, the 
summer remains summer, the lily remains the lily, 
the star the star.” And only those who have brave- 
ly gathered up the fragments that remain of broken 
hopes, and gone forth, determined, by God’s grace, 
to make the most of the life left, know how pitiless, in 
the first days of grief, the sunshine and the flowers 
sometimes seem. And yet, without them, how the 
dreariness would deepen ; and so we thank God for 
sunshine and flowers, even when the one falls, and 
the others grow on graves ! 

With the coming of the daylight Nathan roused 
himself, and took courage to read the after-part of 


l66 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

Victor’s letter — a postscript that hurt even more 
than the loss of Hester’s love, for it revealed the 
utter shallowness of the heart to whose keeping 
she had intrusted her earthly happiness. 

“At the Chateau” — thus Victor wrote— “you 
may chance to meet a last-year’s lady-love of mine, 
pretty Victorine Valais. I yield all my claim to 
her affections to you, my brother; and avail your- 
self of them, I urge, for she is bright as the land of 
sunshine, and with a heart as affectionate as a coo- 
ing dove, and a voice sweet as the nightingale’s.” 

This was how Victor Parret passed over and let 
drop from his mind the memory of the young, bright 
life he had shadowed ; for though Victorine married 
that very May-time, according to her mother’s 
wish, and though her elderly husband was kind and 
patient with her wayward moods, and she lived to 
know many after-years of quiet happiness, the re- 
membrance of that early dream of love, and the 
story of all the deceit it had led her into, and the 
self-respect forfeited by untruth, made that time of 
young life a place for memory to shun — which was 
a sad thing ; for youth is meant to be a season to 
which the aging love to return in thought, as birds 
love to return to their last-year’s nests. 


VI. 


N ATHAN felt he could not read Hester’s words 
in the place that had been darkened by his 
knowledge of his brother’s falseness. He longed 
for solitude, too ; and yielding to the desire, he de- 
termined to spend the day among the hills he had 
learned to know so well. Hence, he penned a hasty 
note to Madame Parret, telling her the news from 
home had not been according to his hopes, and 
that he would explain on his return toward even- 
tide. Then he gathered up the letters scattered on 
the table, and thrusting them into the secretary, he 
locked it, and taking Hester’s, with its still un- 
broken seal, he went forth into the early morning. 

As he passed with a light tread down the broad 
stairway, and through the wide hall, he heard the 
stir of daily life already beginning in the courtyard 
and outbuildings, and on the threshold of the porch 
he met Madame’s own maid, to whom he intrusted 
the delivery of his note. And then, with no delay, 
he hastened down the avenue, only pausing to ask for 
a roll of bread and a handful of dried figs from Jean, 
the lodge-keeper’s daughter, who was just opening 

(167) 


x 68 a MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 

the gates for the day. It took but a moment for 
her to re-enter the house at the entrance of the 
orange-grove, and she returned, bringing, in addi- 
tion to the refreshments for which he had asked, a 
cup of still smoking coffee, clear as amber, and, to 
Nathan, strength-giving as nectar, for he was more 
worn and faint than he knew from the long, sleep- 
less night of mental conflict and pain. 

After that, with no loitering, he sought the 
wooded path that led him to the silence of God’s 
great church, the Sanctuary of the Hills, where the 
arches were the tree-boughs, the dome the blue sky. 
Consciously, he paid no heed to the beauty sur- 
rounding him, in the dewy freshness of that open- 
ing day ; and yet the roadside was a hedge of roses 
that shut in fields planted thick with the broad- 
leaved fig-trees that were laden, at that season, with 
the delicate green, cup-like buds of fruit that would 
ripen later on — buds that had a way of seeming to 
lift the tree-boughs up, rather than to weigh them 
down ; this being a peculiarity of the fig, and per- 
haps one reason for its emblematic use in the Bible 
words that tell, they “ dwell safely, every man un- 
der his vine and under his fig-tree,” — “they shall 
sit every man under his fig-tree, and none shall 
make them afraid for only, as like the fig-buds, 
we look up, can we know safety. 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . i6g 

There were almond and quince orchards, too, 
opening off from that up-hill road, and vineyards 
where terraced vistas were robed in green leafage, 
interblended with clustering blossoms that exhaled 
a fragrance so sweet it filled the air like the odor of 
precious incense. Though the valleys and lowlands 
were still veiled in the tender, violet mist of dawn, 
the sunlight was shining clear and bright on every 
hill-top when at last Nathan came to the sheltered 
nook he sought — a tangled bit of wild dell between 
a cleft in the hill, that widened on beyond into a 
deep gorge of densely-wooded ravine. With sun- 
rise, the air had become jubilant with the matin- 
songs of glad birds, while the hum of bees blended 
a softer note in the high carnival of song. But, just 
as he had seemed unconscious of the beauty about 
his path, so now Nathan seemed not to hear the 
music of happy bird and insect life ; and yet, years 
afterward, he could recall every sight and sound 
that belonged to that hour. He even remembered 
the color and the form of the flowers by the road- 
side, and how a fleecy cloud floated for a moment 
before the sunbeam falling on Hester’s letter, cast- 
ing a shadow across the white page. 

Yet, though Nature was making no conscious 
impression on Nathan’s mind, there were other 
voices speaking in his soul with no uncertain 


170 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


sound ; for he seemed to see and hear and feel the 
weight of the events that had marked every year of 
his life since infancy. But before we heed those 
voices, we will read Hester’s words, which were 
natural and frank, every sentence a reflection of 
her pure, true soul, and every one served to make 
her dearer to Nathan ; and while this added dear- 
ness increased the pain of knowing she was not 
his, there was balm in it, too, for the sure knowl- 
edge that she was worthy to retain her place in his 
heart as the ideal of all sweet, womanly loveliness, 
was the truest comfort then, and always, that 
could have been granted him. 

Hester wrote: “When my heart opened to the 
happy secret of my love for. Victor, it opened, too, 
to what before it had only half recognized — and 
then I knew that you felt toward me as Victor 
feels ; and remembering the sudden joy which il- 
lumined your face the hour when we parted in the 
moonlight, and I gave the token hand-clasp, my 
heart was filled, even in its happiness, with the 
deepest sadness and regret, for I knew you had 
misunderstood my meaning. You thought — oh! 
Nathan, I know you thought — that I meant I cared 
for you as I care for Victor, and — and I do not. 
And yet, perhaps, all these weeks you have been 
believing it ! I am, oh ! so sorry for that thought- 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


171 


less act. Tell me, can you, will you forgive me ? 
And will you come home, and be to me the dear 
brother you have been, for so many years? Think, 
— ever since I was a baby-girl, with only strength 
enough to clap my tiny hands in glee over the 
golden chains of buttercups you used to twine for 
me ; and do you remember how you used to weave 
the daisies into flowery balls, that my little feet 
would dance over the meadow-grass to catch ? ” 
Yes, — all too well Nathan remembered. 

Before ending her letter, Hester noticed, by a 
few words, the wonder which she knew would be 
in Nathan’s mind, over the fact of her having con- 
sented to wed one who had not yet found his chief 
motive in life in the service and worship of her 
Heavenly Friend and Saviour. “ Surely, I am not 
wrong,” — thus she wrote — “ in trusting that God 
will use my love for Victor as the means of leading 
him to know the Heavenly Love ; for there are some 
souls who seem only able to learn it as it is made 
plain to them by their knowledge of human affec- 
tion and she added, “ I suppose this is why God 
teaches little children their first lessons by the alpha- 
bet of father and mother-love, which is a stepping- 
stone to their after-knowledge of the Father and 
Mother God, whose great name is Love — The let- 
ter ended : “ Your true heart will be glad in my joy, 


1 72 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

— yes, I know it will — and again I beg you to come 
home.” 

These extracts are mere bits from the full pages, 
but they are enough to reveal Hester’s guileless na- 
ture, which some play call an insipid portrayal of 
womanly character ; while others will catch the re- 
flection of her childlike heart, that was free from 
childishness, and endued with a simplicity which 
was forceful, as well as simple. Then, too, Hester 
was far above insipidity ; for one of her marked 
traits was the hand-in-handness of her conscience 
with a steadfast power of will that gave her, timid 
though she was by nature, courage to follow by 
right action the pointings of duty, as well as of af- 
fection. It was this mastery of the spiritual over 
all other emotions that breathed through those 
written words, and gave them power to influence 
Nathan that day, soothing him as only the good 
and true can be soothed by truth and goodness. 
And as he read and pondered, he made a wide 
reach upward toward his high ideal of noble man- 
hood ; for he took his first real step in passing be- 
yond self, and the test of this effort consisted in his 
striving to refrain from bitterness in his condemna- 
tion of Victor. Angry he was, and that was right, 
for there is a righteous indignation that all true 
men must feel toward false men ; but that is a very 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


173 


different anger from the bitterness which seeks to 
punish the offender, rather than to eradicate the 
fault. 

Nathan’s success in this effort was manifested 
when the time came for him to tell the story to 
eagerly-interested and warmly-sympathetic Madame 
Parret ; for he found it was not without struggle he 
refrained from bitter, harsh words of his brother; 
but he did refrain — and entered into no details, and 
Madame asked for none. Thus, he escaped what 
he had dreaded as the hardest part, of sharing even 
the outer rim of his disappointment with another. 
Madame also straightway disarmed his fear that, by 
speaking of his trouble, he would, in a certain way, 
give her freedom to refer to it ; for, without any 
lengthy discourse, she expressed her belief that sor- 
rows were one’s own possessions, as much as joys, 
and that no one had a right to intrude them, if the 
sufferer chose to be silent. This privilege of silence 
Nathan certainly desired to regard as his right, as, 
indeed, it is the right of all who suffer. It is strange 
how often kind, good people, and refined in well- 
nigh every other point, forget this, claiming as an 
outgrowth of confidence reposed in them entire 
freedom to introduce the subject according to their 
own will and pleasure ; when, sometimes, to such a 
person as Nathan Parret, the mere knowledge that 


174 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


his trouble is in another’s mind, is almost more 
than he can bear; while the having it referred to is 
like the striking with a rough hand the delicate 
strings of a harp. 

It was the sense — though she gave no sign of it 
— that his disappointment was uppermost in the 
thoughts of Madame, that determined Nathan to 
leave the Chateau at once, though he would go 
forth as a wanderer, for he had relinquished all 
plans for immediate return home. Before leaving, 
he encountered an explanation with Victorine that 
was far more painful than his interview with his 
kind old friend, for, in speaking to the young girl, he 
was forced to face Victor’s double-dealing, as well as 
to again express his regret for the deception into 
which it had led her. But the harshness which had 
marked his manner and words when Victorine had 
sought his counsel, had gone now; for, regarding 
Hester, as he did, much as one regards an angel of 
whom thoughts are all holy, he necessarily saw 
something of good in all women for her sake. 
Hence, he found in Victorine possibilities that out- 
ran his hopes, and, through the exercise of charity 
in judging her, he made a second step in his soul’s up- 
ward history. For, to be loving in our thoughts, and 
looking for good rather than evil, is always an advance 
upward, more especially since it is true that while, 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


175 


as Goethe tells us, “ light is above and color around 
us, we cannot perceive them outside us, unless we 
have color and light within , in our own eyes and 
the soul makes the atmosphere through which the 
eye perceives. . Yet, though Nathan had gained a 
certain foothold in self-mastery, he was still build- 
ing on the sand, for he had not sought the Rock 
Foundation. To do that, he needed something 
more than loving thoughts and regard for principle, 
according to his own interpretation of a noble life, 
for he needed to be clothed in the robe of Christ’s 
righteousness, not his own. 

This thought brings us round again to the Voices 
he heard whispering in his soul that morning, when 
he was shut away from the outer world by the 
guarding gates of the high hills. It is strange how 
souls resemble that type of meanings so manifold 
— Jacob’s ladder — for, as the angels of aspiration 
ascend from the heart of man, broken resolutions 
and unrealized aspirations descend at the same time ; 
a constant meeting of good and bad, a constant 
struggle one with the other. It is as though there 
were two open doors, side by side in the heart, 
through one of which good thoughts and high aims 
enter, while through the other rush the foes so 
eager to assail the soul’s citadel ; hence one must, in 
living, be a soldier, whether he will or no. It was 


iy6 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

the knowledge of this that had made Mr. Gaylord 
so eager to have Nathan Parret start in life equipped 
with the Christian’s armor. 

The first voice Nathan heard, that hour, some 
call philosophy, while others call it stoical indiffer- 
ence ; but this plea found no place in his heart. 
Pride in his own strength of endurance next assert- 
ed itself, and in imagination he forged weapons and 
reared mighty bulwarks against life’s woes ; but 
even as he reared them, they fell in crumbling ruins 
about him, for had he not just learned that the 
hopes of a lifetime can be crushed in the brief space 
of a minute ! — Then came a whisper, urging : “ Forget 
the past ; blind eyes and ears to the desolating fact 
of disappointment,” — but would that give comfort ? 
And could he forget his dead hopes, in the presence 
of his living sorrow? Nathan grew feverish with 
the conflict of opposing thoughts, but strange as it 
seems, though he was so almost persuaded to be a 
Christian, he still, even in his weariness, turned 
away from the One and only Voice in his soul that 
invited toward real Peace. And yet he heard that 
pleading “ still and small,” and he knew it called 
him to seek refuge in something Higher than self, 
— even in the life of which St. Paul says, “ to live, 
is Christ." 

Meanwhile, above the encompassing clouds which 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


177 


cast over Nathan their trailing shadows of doubt 
and “ halting between two opinions/’ there shone 
“ the Star that sends toward us its Light ; and we 
can no more escape from that Light than we can 
escape from the shadow of the cloud but there is 
this difference — the Star is abiding, the cloud is 
transitory. Have patience, then, and the Star- 
beams will at last penetrate Nathan’s darkness; — 
even then he was already restless — and nearly all 
our upward-tending feelings can be traced to the 
being ill-at-ease, dissatisfied with self, and homesick 
for the 

“ Countrie 

Afar beyond the stars, 

Where stands a winged sentrie, 

All skillful in the wars ; 

There, above noise and danger, 

Sweet Peace sits, crowned with smiles, 

And One, born in a manger, 

Commands the beauteous files. 


If thou canst get but thither, 

There grows the flower of peace, 

The Rose that cannot wither, — 

Thy fortresse, and thy ease.” 

Nathan left the Chateau in less than a week after 
the arrival of those home-letters ; and he started 
forth in search of the knowledge which he now de- 
termined must fill the empty place in his life. It 
12 


178 a MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

was thus he wrote Nan Benson, saying : “ Now the 
Ruler, Love, has failed me, I go to follow the guid- 
ance of Master Knowledge. Will that fail, too ? 
Truly, Nan, I am in very truth like Offero of the 
legend, finding the weakness of one Ruler after an- 
other, — first, Strength proved powerless before the 
might of wind and wave. Next, Wealth I found 
empty, when, by it, I tried to change the mind of 
the stalwart New Bedford sea-captain. And Love 
— you know how it has vanquished me. And now, 
Knowledge and my Profession ! — well, they are left ; 
and before I return, I must test their power to 
satisfy.” 

Thus ended the only words Nathan and Nan ex- 
changed during the years of his stay in foreign 
lands. For that space of time we will leave his story 
untold, taking it up again at the beginning of the 
year during which he at last embarked for home, 
where he arrived in the early summer. It was eight 
years, and more, since that April day when he, 
Victor, Hester, Nan, and little Patty, had found the 
May-flowers under the dead leaves of the last year’s 
fall. Were those leaves, and those flowers, a para- 
ble of Nathan Parret’s life? 


PART III. 


“ Look not on thine own loss , hut look beyond \ 

And take the Cross for glory and for guide” 

“ Richest gifts are those we make , 

Dearer than the love we take 
That we give for love’s own sake . 

“ Hands that ope but to receive , 

Empty close : they only live 
Richly , who can richly give.” 

Who does his soul possess in loving , grows strong.” 


I. 


E IGHT years! No wonder they wrought a 
great change in Nathan Parret, not only in 
outward appearance, but, still more, intellectually 
and spiritually. When we left him, he was in the 
season of youth, that time which is wont to be 
marked by the unfolding of human affections — the 
time, too, when the heart is apt to be inspired by 
love and reverence for the Divine ; — a season fol- 
lowed by the crowding interests of the world, and 
its increasing temptations, and Nathan had not es- 
caped the conflict. But temptation assailed him 
from contesting thoughts, rather than sensuous al- 
lurements, and these thoughts had led him for a 
time far away from the simple teachings of his 
childhood, and good Mr. Gaylord’s later instruc- 
tions. But, spite this far wandering, there was al- 
ways an undertone of dissatisfaction ; and many an 
hour he turned to the past with desire, mingled 
with awe, that almost amounted to consternation 
over his flights into the realm of speculative 
thought, and subtle questioning of religious truths. 

(181) 


182 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


And yet, Nathan was safer to have abandoned 
some of the doctrines that had been sincerely taught 
him, than he would have been had he retained them 
merely because thus taught, for he never passed be- 
yond the influence of the fact that his early guides 
had profoundly believed what they taught ; never, 
even when he wandered into the border-land of ma- 
terialism. But his was not a nature to long linger 
in that chill atmosphere, and yet when he fled from 
it he encountered a time of keen mental and spirit- 
ual disquiet ; for in his disbelief he was honest, and 
eager to sound to its depth the fathomless abyss of 
scepticism ; hence he passed through a mental and 
moral experience that has, alas! drifted many a 
thinker into “ the denial of God, save as a general 
conception of Law, without seeing or feeling any 
need of a Law-Giver.” 

In all these experiences, his love and reverence 
for Truth, and the prayers that had been offered 
for him ever since his babyhood, were his safety. 
For, while he learned every letter of the “logic” 
on which “ Positivism ” founds its theory, at the 
same time his mind was open to the beauty of Di- 
vine Truth; and gradually, as he investigated one 
system after another, he came to the innermost 
meaning and heart of Life, till at last the Truth 
that had been so dear to him in his youth led him 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


183 


now, in maturer years, to look into his own heart, 
and then on to the Unseen; and so step by step, 
first through penitence, then through faith, the 
heart of a child had come again to Nathan Parret, 
and he yielded his will to the Divine Will, revealed 
through Him, “ the Way, the Truth, and the Life,” 
and the passing from the dreary dogmatism of scep- 
ticism into the Light of Faith and knowledge of God 
as a Father, was as dear, beautiful, and wonderful to 
him as sunrise is beautiful and wonderful after mid- 
night darkness; while the vivid consciousness that 
he possessed not only a thinking mind, but a living 
soul, was like the glory that made the face of 
Moses shine when he beheld the veiled presence 
of God. After that revelation Nathan knew, with 
a certainty that no argument of subtlest reason- 
ing could shake, that between his soul and his 
Heavenly Father there was a way of commu- 
nication opened, mysterious as the fact must ever 
remain. 

In learning all this, one need hardly to be told 
that Nathan had not found satisfactory service un- 
der the Rulers whom, he had written Nan Benson, 
he went forth to seek; and yet he had attained 
high honor as a scholar and thinker at Heidelberg, 
and other European universities ; while later, when 
following his profession in Paris hospitals, he had 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


184 

won golden opinions, that were waiting to greet 
him on his return to America. 

I have given this brief outline of his spiritual 
growth, part of the time up, and part down — for 
alas ! a soul can grow down, — as an index of his life 
during the years of which, in detail, I will be silent. 
As for his intellectual growth, it had been full and 
rich ; while the moulding influence of the society in 
which he had mingled, through his connection with 
the Parret family, had introduced him into the cir- 
cles most frequented by the leading scholars, both 
native and foreign, that thronged Paris, at that 
time the centre of intellectual life in Europe. And 
his manners had acquired an ease and grace that 
equalled Victor’s, in fact surpassed them, for char- 
acter, spite surface polish, will reflect itself in man- 
ners and conversation ; and his character then, 
and on now to the end of his life, combined 
sweetness and moral nobleness, with an individual- 
ity that gave a great charm to his personality. The 
fact that he had suffered too, and learned sympathy 
through knowledge of disappointment, had brought 
the human nature in him into harmonious relations 
with the human nature around him ; for no one can 
be tossed by a tempest of grief as he had been, no 
one can struggle with mental doubts and spiritual 
unrest, and fight with a masterful self-will, like his. 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. ^5 

without learning that which opens the way into 
the needs of other hearts and minds. 

As to his appearance : twenty-nine years of health- 
ful life had launched him into the perfection of man- 
hood’s physical beauty, and with the impression of 
power, which his presence gave, there was an un- 
defined atmosphere of mental force, the reign of 
intellect being traced in every feature of his face, 
and revealed even in the poise of his head ; while 
his consecration of life and strength to the service 
of the Master he had at last found to be the “ One 
of all Strength,” had given a gentle tenderness to 
his ways, words, and deeds, that reminded one of 
St. Paul’s words, “ We were gentle among you, even 
as a nurse cherisheth her children.” Notwith- 
standing this, the contradictions which always in a 
certain way had encompassed Nathan Parret, still 
held sway, for there was something about him not 
like a New Englander, and not like a Frenchman; 
his friends tried in vain to discover what it was, 
but generally concluded their analysis by the sim- 
ple confession that he was “ Nathan Parret,” and 
that meant a man as unlike most other men as 
an Alpine pine is unlike the growth of a lowland 
plain. 

A long parenthesis, all this, but it will take but a 
moment to turn back to the day when Nathan Par- 


1 86 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


ret sailed for home. And before we turn to it, let 
us glance at the home people who are awaiting his 
coming. For, eight years must have brought many 
changes to the little group we last beheld all to- 
gether, as they assembled in the north parlor of 
Parret House, to listen to Professor Raymond’s 
tale of the sudden storm ; and the search that fol- 
lowed for Nathan, and the light skiff, which had 
danced so gaily over the calm waters, when the sky 
was blue, and the air golden in the radiance of un- 
clouded summer sunshine. 


II. 


O UR backward look will begin at the Parsonage, 
and we will open the door leading into Mr. 
Gaylord’s study, an hour or two before sunset. 
Looking around the familiar room, it is hard to be- 
lieve so many years have come and gone since we 
were there last. Our gaze rests on the same table, 
strewn with books and papers, and pushed, as in 
the bygone time, before the westward window, 
that every ray of latest lingering light may centre 
on the printed pages and closely-written manu- 
script. The time of the year is early June, and 
the room fragrant with the blossoming lilacs and 
syringas, that grew close to the window-casement. 
Before the table sits the minister, looking much as 
when we last saw him, and as deeply absorbed in 
thought ; for truly much of his pondering lay among 
problems that no mortal ever yet could solve, how- 
ever profound his reasoning on election and free- 
will, justice and judgment. By his side sits Mrs. 
Gaylord, busy as in the old days with needle and 
thread, and yet, as then, never too much occupied 
for an occasional look toward her husband, who, 

(187) 


!8S A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


with the quick instinct of a married lover, always 
felt those tender glances, as flowers feel sunshine, 
and responded by a smile even when too engrossed 
for words. 

The years had written their story more decidedly 
on Mrs. Gaylord’s appearance than on her hus- 
band’s. The soft brown hair, that, spite the plain- 
ness becoming in the wife of a New England min- 
ister, would ripple into stray curls and waves about 
her open brow, was white now, while the brow, 
formerly so smooth, showed traces of lines of care 
and anxiety ; nevertheless, Mrs. Gaylord was as sun- 
ny-tempered as ever, and she kept to herself what- 
ever anxiety those lines hinted. One thing was 
sure, the cares that weighed on her motherly heart 
had nothing to do with Patty, who was as bright- 
eyed and rosy-cheeked now that the years of her 
life counted fourteen, as she was when the six-year- 
old darling Nathan Parret remembered. So win- 
some was this maiden Patty, that more than one 
matron among the parish folk predicted that she 
would rival Hester in the charm of her sweet girl- 
hood. But Patty and Hester were too unlike to ever 
rival one another, even had there been no stretch 
of years between them, for Patty had a quick, way- 
ward spirit, all unlike Hester’s gentle calm. She 
was ready of speech, too, like her mother, inheriting 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


189 

also the same easy adaptability to people and cir- 
cumstances ; and young as she was, there was no 
mystery of housewifely skill that she could not com- 
pass, while already there were piles of snowy towels 
and napkins stored away in Mrs. Gaylord’s cedar 
chest that Patty’s little hands had woven, for she 
was as dexterous in the use of her mother’s large 
spinning-wheel as with her own small one. 

This was the outward Patty — a creature of song 
and gladness, with brown, wavy hair, a forehead 
white and high, and eyes blue as the sky. As for 
the inward, there were quiet pools in Patty’s young 
heart, spite the outward shimmer and sparkle, still 
places where were hidden away the deep things of 
the girl’s nature. In the quietest, deepest nook of 
all was safely cherished her childhood’s affection for 
Nathan. 

But we must not tarry longer with the inmates 
of the Parsonage, but speed on to Hester’s home; 
and our w r ay to Parret House, as you will remem- 
ber, passes by the turn of the road that leads by 
the up-hill path to Judge Benson’s, where Nan was 
still the maiden daughter; for though many a 
suitor, old and young, had trod that up-hill path, 
never one had come down from the white house re- 
joicing in success. 

Of all the persons who have flitted across the 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


I90 

pages of this history of Nathan Parret, Nan Benson 
is the least changed by time. Her eyes have their 
old flash still, her words their old sparkle, and her 
voice is as sweet and clear as ever as she leads the 
choir of the village church. For the change that 
came to Nan with the passing years was a change 
of heart, and not of outward appearance, and it was 
manifested in a softening and mellowing of the 
rough points in her nature. Being of a steadfast 
mind, her youthful affection for Nathan had not 
abated, spite the years since they parted. 

But it is time we left Nan, and sought out Hes- 
ter Gaylord, — Hester Parret now, and mother, too, 
of a brave little lad and wee sisters, each lovely and 
sweet, though the sweetest of all her flock to Hes- 
ter’s mother-heart was the tender lamb the Heaven- 
ly Shepherd carried safe in His arms of Love, and 
whose tiny grave Patty had heaped high with the 
first wild-flowers of the spring. 

Approaching the old House by the way of the 
high-road, there was little to tell of change. The 
maples over toward the Chateau side were robed in 
the tenderest garment of all the year — the first 
beauty of summer’s early green ; while the horse- 
chestnut trees on either side of the dooryard gate 
were only just beginning to unfurl their young 
leaves, and there was no sign of their full, rich bios- 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


191 

soms, except on some few outmost branches which 
the sunbeams kissed all day long. 

Miss Amanda is the first to demand our atten- 
tion as \ye enter the mansion, though it is hard to 
persuade oneself that the thin, worn face looking 
out from the crimson cushions of the rocking-chair 
can be the active woman of eight years ago. But 
the first sound of her voice silences all doubt, for 
that tone surely can be none other than Miss Aman- 
da’s. Hers is a common enough story among the 
New England hills. A woman resolute in the per- 
formance of duty, spite weakening strength and 
failing power, and then a sudden break, — which the 
village doctor called “ a shock ” — since which Miss 
Amanda had been helpless as the youngest of Hes- 
ter’s baby-girls, little Susie, who could not yet take 
a step alone. There was the usual amount of sur- 
prise felt over the sudden prostration of a woman 
strong as Miss Amanda, and there was kindly sym- 
pathy expressed for the helpless invalid, as well as for 
H ester, on whom an added care had come ; many grave 
looks and sighs being blended with the whispered 
comments on the trouble that, without this new 
trial, was heavy enough. But there was no call for 
sympathy for Hester, as far as Miss Amanda was 
concerned ; for the sixty years of the good woman’s 
life bore a blessed harvest those days of her en- 


192 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


feebled strength ; and never once, even when the 
weakest, did she yield to the fretful restlessness 
that sometimes so overshadows an aging life. And 
if her voice was sharp, it was not because of any 
lack of gentleness in her heart — this the children 
knew, and a visit to “ Grandy Mandy’s ” room was the 
reward offered for any special act of childlike sub- 
mission, or yielding of self-will or selfishness. Even 
Victor’s voice softened when he came into the pres- 
ence of the old housekeeper, who had been tender 
as a mother to the Parret brothers. Victor ! how can 
I tell the alteration that had come to him? Truly, 
it is a tale from which I so much shrink I will leave 
it untold, and you can gather an impression of it 
from the change in Hester. Such a pitiful change! 
One glance revealed something was sorely amiss in 
her life, though she never put it into words — not 
even to her mother. Indeed, it had never been 
Hester’s habit to give utterance to disappointment; 
but she could not hide the hint of it, which ap- 
peared in a certain paling of her always pale face, 
while the light in her eyes deepened, and they 
seemed to grow larger and darker, with a more far- 
away look in them. But Hester’s is no uncommon 
story; alas! hundreds of women’s faces tell much 
the same tale. In brief outline, it takes but a min- 
ute to narrate, for it is little more than a history of 


A MODERN ST. CHRISTOPHER. 


193 


anxiety and hope — the anxiety, a slow dying of 
heart, the trusting, an eager clinging to daily lessen- 
ing hopes, like that with which a drowning mariner 
clasps a drifting spar. And yet Hester lived, and 
went through her tasks much as a happy wife 
would have done, for she was not a weak woman, 
and, above all, she was a Christian ; hence, when 
joy went out of her life, she did not neglect the du- 
ties that remained ; and striving to fulfil each one, 
“as unto the Lord,” His Love had led her to the 
pastures of Peace, even though they did up-spring 
in the valley of shadows. And then, she had her 
children — the brave boy, Adolph, and the little 
maidens, Ruey and baby Sue. This story of Hester’s 
is not to be wondered at, when one remembers that 
it would hardly be possible to find two persons 
more unlike in character and temperament than she 
and her husband ; and this dissimilarity, which, had 
the motives and high purposes and hopes of their 
souls been in harmony, would have added the charm 
of perpetual freshness to their intercourse, only 
served, without it, to widen the lack of sympathy. 
Hester had not been wedded a month before she be- 
gan to realize this ; for, having won her for his wife, 
Victor, secure in the possession of her love, les- 
sened, first one and then another, of the observ- 
ances by which he had blinded her, during the 

13 


A MODERN SAINT CHRIS TOP HER. 


I94 

days of courtship, to his real indifference to sacred 
things. 

Even to a dull nature it is hard to wake up to 
such disappointment, and to a woman sensitive as 
Hester, it was keen agony. At first she sought 
reason after reason for excusing Victor ; she even 
tried to blame herself. She strove also to remem- 
ber she must not expect too much from him, and 
she sought comfort from the Bible verse which has 
comforted so many anxious women, — “ That is not 
first which is spiritual, but that which is natural.” 
And this was the comfort she clung to for years. 
Years during which Victor’s desire after what he 
called life, led him farther and farther away from 
Hester and home ; meanwhile, the egotistical, ty- 
rannical, and capricious elements in his nature 
gained rapid ascendency over the better traits of 
his heart. But, during all that time, he never en- 
tirely lost the magnetic power of attraction which 
he had always possessed, and which served to con- 
ceal from Mr. Gaylord the real truth that his wife’s 
quicker eye detected notwithstanding Hester’s 
silence. 

Victor’s departure from home, too, had with the 
years become more and more frequent, while the 
wealth left him by both father and mother was van- 
ishing before his reckless, extravagant self-indul- 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


195 


gence. And many an anxiety weighed on Miss 
Amanda and Hester, though outwardly, Parret 
House and its inmates gave the impression of 
wealth and prosperity. This was the condition of 
the home to which Nathan was returning, with a 
heart full of hope, after his eight years’ absence. 


III. 


T HE sweet June day was drawing toward its 
ending, as the rumbling coach in which Na- 
than was a passenger, came to the familiar mile- 
stone, with its rudely-carved arrow-head, and lichen- 

grown figures, 2j, pointing toward N . The air 

was warm and bright with the reflected glow of the 
sun, which, as it neared the mystic line, where the 
western hills and the sky met, flooded the land- 
scape with a glowing light. So intense was this 
soft shimmer of summer brightness, Nathan, from 
his high perch on the coach-box, could only make 
out in a fragmentary way— through the finely-woven 
web of golden rays— the scene that was as well 
remembered, as if he had travelled the road but 
yesterday. Over everything there brooded, too, the 
sweet, reposeful quiet, which is nature’s Benediction 
during the summer-time for late afternoon and 
early twilight. The steady rumbling of the coach 
wheels, blended with the regular beat of the horses’ 
hoofs on the hard road, an occasional flutter of 
wings, and the “caw-caw” of a flock of solemn, 

black-winged crows, rising from some near corn- 
(i 9 6) 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


I 9 7 

field, were the only sounds that broke this hush. 
The coach had reached the top of the last hill, when 
Nathan caught his first glimpse of the turrets of 
Parret House, and in a wavy line, curling about 
them, he traced a faint wreath of shadowy, haze- 
like smoke. The sight of it quickened his pulse, 
and truly he felt then, as he did for the next half 
hour, that the joy of return well-nigh compensated 
for his long exile. 

Knowing, as "Nathan did, every rod of the way, 
after the coach passed the wide stretch of corn and 
wheat-fields that marked the outer boundary of 
Judge Benson’s farm, he dismounted, bidding his 
aforetime acquaintance — Joe, the driver — announce 
his arrival by the delivery of his luggage at the north 
door of the homestead, while he approached it by the 
woodland path, the way to which opened just there. 
It led at first through a tangled thicket, that 
reached half across Judge Benson’s corn-field, look- 
ing in the hazy light like a projecting promontory, 
that reached out seaward, breaking the monotony 
of an otherwise unbroken coast-line. The road had 
been little travelled of late, and it stretched be- 
fore him, a somewhat dim, undefined path, as he 
strove to pierce the gloom of the deepening shad- 
ows. It was much as it is when we strive to read 
the onward page of the future by the light of to- 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


I98 

day; which is something we can never do; for, thank 
God, while He has opened wide the windows through 
which our souls look backward, the future, even of 
to-morrow, is as much a secret as the story of a 
century hence. As Nathan entered the woods he at 
once became conscious of the sweet, aromatic fra- 
grance that haunts such places, especially when a 
bit of marsh land is not far off. He stood still for 
a minute, inhaling the well-remembered odor of 
sweet-fern and pennyroyal, combined with the 
woody perfumes that are never so full as toward 
nightfall. Passing on, the sound of his feet tread- 
ing on the dry leaves of last year’s fall, and the oc- 
casional snap of some tree-bough that lay across 
his path, served to wake up the silent forest, and 
sounds that carried him back to boyhood greeted 
him from every side. Even the shrill note of the 
frog’s dismal croak came floating up from the swamp 
meadow, vibrating the air with a hundred different 
echoes, that each one held something like music 
for him, while a late bird breathed out an even-song, 
as sweet as the melody of the French nightingale’s. 
As for the flowers, they were all there, not one 
missing, from the most lowly growing to the great 
branches of star-like, wide-open dogwood, and wild 
azalea, pink as a sea-shell. The columbines, too, 
were all a-nodding as a gentle breeze played among 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


l 99 


their cup-like clusters ; he paused to gather a hand- 
ful, and to wonder what the mute things would fain 
say, if their swinging bells could become fairy-like 
voices. This was the greeting nature gave Nathan, 
and with a soul thrilling with gladness, he passed 
out of the woods across the open field that led 
into the garden that went by the name of “ Sunny 
France.” It was here he met the first chill of dis- 
appointment, for the gate hung loose, with hinge and 
latch both broken ; and as his glance fell on the gar- 
den beds, he missed their old-time order, for now 
they were overgrown by a rank growth of phlox, 
purple and white, with clumps of peonies, and rib- 
bon-grass, and weeds, “ country cousins ” and “ beg- 
of-my-neighbor,” that had pushed aside the delicate 
rootlets of the choice plants that had been dear to 
his father, and later on, to himself. When Nathan 
reached the vine-covered porch, even a sadder tale of 
neglect awaited him, for the climbing vines that had 
made it a bower-like place — sweet Provence roses and 
prairie-bells, honeysuckle and clustering clematis, 
hung a wild tangle of twisted branches, many of them 
trailing on the ground for lack of some upholding 
support. The windows on that Chateau side of the 
house, also added to the general look of desolation, 
for they were nearly all close shut and barred. 

For a minute, he sat down on the broad step 


200 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


of the porch, which, though it was June-time, lay 
heaped high in crevice and corner with the dead 
leaves blown by the wintry winds into their shel- 
tered nooks ; and it was then and there that he real- 
ized the fact that he had come to a changed home. 
It was the sound of a child’s voice that roused him, 
and, as he arose and walked slowly under the 
shadows of the maples, round to the north entrance 
of the mansion, suddenly he found himself face to 
face with Hester. Nathan had schooled his heart 
to look forward calmly to this meeting. But, could 
that be Hester? — Hester, whom he had left in the full 
beauty of her youth and unshadowed life! This is 
what he saw : a tall, slender woman, in figure much 
the same as the Hester he remembered. She was 
simply dressed, too, as had been her wont ; and 
clinging to the folds of her soft gray gown, stood, 
with uplifted face, a sturdy little lad, whom Nathan 
at once knew must be Adolph. In her arms she 
held a baby-girl — a rosy-faced child, — while another, 
full as rosy and sweet, was striving with all her 
i baby strength to push Adolph away, and thus win 
a place close by her mother’s side. To a stranger 
it would have seemed a fair picture — a. young moth- 
er, with a calm, Madonna face, surrounded by her 
flock of little ones, each, after its own baby fashion, 
seeking from her the satisfaction of some baby 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


201 


want ; for “ Mother” was their first call when, like 
the flowers, they awoke at sunrise, and “Mother” 
the last whispered word when, like the flowers still, 
they closed their bright eyes at sundown, and slept 
the dreamless sleep of happy childhood. 

If this had been all Nathan had seen, the beauty 
of the picture would have filled his brave, true 
heart with emotions of thankful content that would 
have shut it tight against any memory of the 
“ might-have-been.” But it was Hester’s face on 
which he gazed ; and as he gazed, he remembered 
the look gone from it, and he noted the look that 
had come into it ! And, after that first glance, he 
needed no detailed story of the years of her married 
life. It was enough to show him that the wife of 
his brother Victor, the mother of those little chil- 
dren, was altogether unlike the Hester of his earlier 
days. Seeing this, and knowing what it meant, 
strong man though he was, Nathan Parret strug- 
gled with a sharp pain that was like a sudden warp- 
ing of his heart, as he looked, and looked in vain, 
for Hester — Hester Gaylord. 

Her welcome was tender and loving as a sister’s, 
and if her lips quivered, — if her eyes filled with 
tears, and a shadow of trouble flitted across her face 
as she greeted Nathan — it was not from any sickly 
sentiment that pressed the memory of their parting 


202 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


into their meeting. No! Hester’s emotion was 
centred around the fear that Nathan must now soon 
know what she had been so careful to hide from him. 
“ But not to-night, not to-night,” her wifely heart 
softly whispered, adding, “ for surely a wife has a right 
to sorrows, into which even a brother may not look.” 
It was thus Hester thought, as she led the way across 
the hall to the north parlor, now given up to Miss 
Amanda’s use. The door was ajar, the windows were 
open, too, and the sick woman had caught the sound 
of Nathan’s step, as he came around the house; and 
in her eagerness, she half raised herself from the 
cushioned chair, as she called : “ Nathan, my boy ! ’* 
Yes, he was a boy, to her; and kneeling by her 
side, feeling the touch of her kindly hands on his 
bowed head, truly Nathan Parret was a child again. 

It is such a beautiful thing, this blessed power of 
brief returns to childhood, which in a certain sense 
never is lost, so long as those whom we called in 
our early days Father and Mother are left on earth 
to bless us, and to call us “ My child ! ” At that 
dear familiar call, weary, life-worn men, and tired, 
heartsick women are children once more, spite 
whitening hair and dimming eyes; only the or- 
phaned know what it means to wake up to the 
knowledge that no one is left on earth to ever again 
whisper, “ My child ! ” 


IV. 


HE hours immediately following Nathan’s ar- 



rival were full of mingled light and shade ; 
for the taking up life after an interval of years, just 
where one left it, is as impossible as it is to bring 
back yesterday. And, at best, the striving to fill 
up the silent space must be an unsatisfactory effort. 
There is, too sad a consciousness of the changes 
time has wrought for it to be otherwise ; too intense 
a reviving of a past that belongs to a departed life. 
Then, too, at such hours there is apt to be a strange 
blending of deeply earnest with lesser interests. 
And, as Nathan asked after old neighbors, and the 
news of the country-side, — who had married, and 
who had gone from earth, — his thoughts were at 
the same time centred around Victor, and the sud- 
den blush and look of care that had flitted across 
Hester’s face at every mention of her husband’s 


name, 


It was a relief, when, like a flash of joy, Patty 
came dancing into the room to tell, in a voice gay 
as the song of a lark, the good news, Joe, the stage- 
driver, had entrusted to her, with the message that 


(203) 


2Q4 


A MODERN SA/JVT CHRISTOPHER. 


Hester was to send to the village inn for Nathan’s 
luggage. Patty was half startled to find her news 
anticipated, and she could hardly believe the tall 
stranger was in very truth the Nathan for whose 
safe return home she had prayed every night and 
morning for eight years. But Patty’s surprise was 
light compared with Nathan’s wonder over the fact, 
that the rosy maiden, standing before him, was 
none other than his child friend. As he strove to 
adjust his mind to the change, Patty was regarding 
him, much as she would had he been some knight- 
ly hero of a bygone age, suddenly introduced 
into that quiet New England town. Only by an 
effort could she refrain from running away, to tell 
the tale of this wonderful stranger, who, after all, 
was only Nathan Parret. It was to the inmates 
of the white house, on the top of the hill, — Nan 
Benson’s home, — that she was most eager to car- 
ry the tidings; and then, after telling Nan, she 
would spread the news from one end to the other 
of the village street. But Hester restrained her, 
for instinctively she felt a desire to have Nathan 
and Nan meet with no prefacing announcement. 
After a minute Patty was well satisfied to remain ; 
for like the children, she speedily felt at ease with the 
new-comer, toward whom they had made no delay 
in extending overtures of welcome, discerning with 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 205 

the quick intuition of childhood that he was to be 
trusted. Indeed, Ruey nestled into his arms, and 
listened to his voice with a smile of contentment as 
complete as that with which, later on, she hearkened 
to her mother’s cooing lullaby. And from that hour 
this dear little maid regarded “ Uncle Nathan” as 
her special property. Even that first evening, when 
“ sleepy time ” came, she would let no one else 
carry her up-stairs, while, with an imperious wave 
of her tiny hand, that was oddly like Victor’s baby- 
hood assertion of self-will, she refused to leave Na- 
than’s arms to bid “ Granny Mandy ” good-night. 
And so he stooped and held the sweet, fresh child- 
face down close to the worn, aged face of the kindly 
old woman. And if there were tears in Nathan’s 
eyes at that moment, surely they were tokens of 
strength rather than weakness. The good-night 
kiss given, little Ruey still pleaded for more indul- 
gence and begged to kneel on Nathan’s knee, bow- 
ing her curly head on his broad shoulder, while she 
lisped the simple prayer sacred to childhood, re- 
peating each word softly after Miss Amanda’s 
guiding voice, just as Nathan had done when a 
little lad. This was the sweetest experience of his 
return home, after he opened the gate with the 
broken latch. Patty followed Nathan and Ruey 
up-stairs, and on the landing Hester was waiting 


2 q 6 a MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


for them. And after giving the child to her mother, 
Nathan made a brief tarrying before returning to 
Miss Amanda, while he entered once more his old 
room. Hester had been before him, and opened 
wide the windows and closed blinds ; and with noth- 
ing to interfere, he looked out, and up into the 
tree-boughs that were heavy with the soft green of 
the June leafage, which was astir with birds seek- 
ing their nests among the leafy branches, and each, 
with no mistake, finding its own. By some sudden 
caprice of memory, the likeness of it to bygone 
Junes, stirred the spiritual atmosphere of Nathan’s 
soul with remembrances that encompassed him with 
a radiance that was akin to nature’s golden glory of 
the late afternoon ; and as the past came back to 
him in softer colors and fainter voices than the 
reality had held, he felt, spite the disappointment 
he had known, that life was a beautiful, blessed 
thing. 

During the minutes of Nathan’s musing, Nan 
had crossed the threshold of Parret House, it being 
her custom to come between the daylight and the 
dark for a good-night word with her old friend. 
With her wonted freedom from restraint, when 
alone with Miss Amanda, Nan sat down like a child 
on a low stool by the old lady’s side, entirely un- 
mindful of the years that divided her from girlhood ; 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


20 7 


for Nan was nigh on thirty, there being but a few 
months’ difference in her age and Nathan’s. She 
was all a-flutter with joy over Miss Amanda’s an- 
nouncement of his arrival, but he entered the room 
so quietly she did not hear him approaching ; thus 
their meeting was as natural and unstudied as 
though the parting had been but yesterday. And, 
to Nathan, Nan seemed as unchanged as the wild- 
flowers that had looked up at him from their 
haunts by the bank-sides of the wood-road. 

For a moment there was silence, as they gazed 
intently at one another; then Nathan stretched 
out his hand, saying : “ I am so glad you have not 
altered.” Nan’s reply was like her old self, for she 
laughed, while a bright glance flashed from her 
dark eyes ; and, as she laughed, truly she did look 
the very Nan of bygone years. Sometimes a woman 
does thus keep her youth long after, according to 
time’s counting, she has passed beyond it. Is it 
because, unconsciously to herself, there is in her 
heart a fore-gleam of something glad and beautiful 
that life still may hold for her? — and does that 
something sing a song sweet as the murmur of the 
breeze that heralds a message of summer? I think 
it is thus, for when God does not grant spring flow- 
ers to His children, often He sends summer blos- 
soms into their lives; and if the summer, like the 


208 a MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

spring, withholds these heart-blooms, have you never 
noticed how brightly the blossoms of autumn glow 
with warm color and rich fragrance ? and, — wonder- 
ful as it seems — if spring, summer, and autumn 
flowers fail, there are now and then winter blos- 
soms, Christmas roses ! I wonder will the time ever 
come when we will read and understand, better 
than we do now, the language of type and parable 
that Nature is never weary of repeating? — an open 
parable for Nan Benson, for flowers had bloomed 
for her with every season of her life’s story ; and 
they always would, for she trod life’s path without 
its ever growing dusty and fretted by the little wor- 
ries and everydayness that, according to the way in 
which a woman meets them, make life either savor- 
less and dull, or beautiful and bright with a never- 
failing freshness, which accepts the blessed truth 
that passing and seemingly insignificant occupations, 
hold elements of the eternal in their on-reaching is- 
sues, which clasp tendrils from the now shifting 
present, on to the Unseen and everlasting Hereafter. 

It was this dewy freshness of Nan’s spirit that 
Nathan straightway felt, and which, like a song 
without words, told him she had made the most of 
life’s small joys and the least of its great trials. He 
felt, also, that she had not done this by her own 
unaided strength ; and, as he realized this, he re- 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


209 


membered that spiritual dew, like that which fresh- 
ens flowers and all growing things, falls in the dark- 
ness, — and — had Nan known darkness? That was 
a question to ponder. 

As the light grew dim in the room, — for even 
summer twilights wane, — Miss Amanda closed her 
eyes, not so much to sleep as to think, and thank 
God for Nathan’s return. Meanwhile, Hester did 
not join them, for, after Patty left her, she sat down 
by the open window to wait for the children to go 
to sleep, and then she fell into a reverie which last- 
ed long. Against the still-glowing western sky the 
outlines of the hills were sharply defined, while the 
upward slope of their sides were in shadow, hence 
vague and mysterious ; but, as the light paled in 
the west, a silvery gleam from the rising moon gave 
promise that soon its soft beams would dispel 
shadow and mystery — a sign of hope Hester was 
not slow in reading. The stillness of the hour was 
only broken by sounds now and then from the 
barnyard, or the bark of a dog, and the low mur- 
mur of Nathan’s and Nan’s voices, speaking softly, 
not to disturb Miss Amanda — a murmur that blend- 
ed in with the hum of insects, that after-sundown 
melody that belongs to summer twilights, when it 
seems as though every one of the gay-winged, flutter- 
ing things that all day long have made merry in the 

14 


210 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


sunshine unite in a good-night chorus. But Hester 
was listening for something far different, for, though 
used to disappointment, to her wifely heart no 
sound was so welcome as that which announced 
her husband’s return home. And yet, he had so 
failed her ! Thinking of it, no wonder she laid her 
head on the window-sill and sobbed aloud. But 
not being given to tears, after a minute she checked 
them, and was calm again, as she hearkened for the 
first faint sound of Victor’s approach. Anxiety 
knocked loudly at her heart meanwhile, till it trem- 
bled with dread forebodings, for — How would he 
return? 

So eager and overstrained became this anxiety, 
she caught the rumble of swiftly-revolving wheels 
before Victor’s gig had reached the level road at 
the base of the hill. When it reached that point, 
Nan heard, too, and, with her tender love, she has- 
tened to depart ; for she knew Hester would rather 
have the brothers meet, with no eye save her own 
to note the look of indignation and grief that Nan 
felt would be on Nathan’s face; while Victor’s 
would tell a story, half of fear and half of surly 
indifference. 

Without explanation, Nathan understood Nan’s 
motive, and he offered no remonstrance to her re- 
fusal of his escort home. It had been a pleasant 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


21 1 


hour to them both, and yet it was as well to have 
it end ; for Nan, in turning the pages of memory’s 
book, had come to the April day when they had 
gathered the May-flowers, and later on read the le- 
gend of St. Christopher; and it was better not to 
touch too closely that memory, certainly during 
this first hour of meeting. And yet, with the half- 
playful archness which was apt to mark her man- 
ner, as Nathan opened the gate, she looked up to- 
ward him with a smile, saying: “Tell me, what of 
the Life Rulers?” — and her voice softened, as she 
added, “ Have you found the ‘ One of all Strength ’ ? ” 
At that question, she became deeply earnest, and, 
without waiting for a reply, she said: “Oh! Na- 
than ; if it be that, in following that One and only 
true Master, He calls you to carry some weak, sin- 
sick soul over the River of temptation, will you, 
like Offero of old, lift the burden?” As she thus 
asked, Victor came driving swiftly up the road ; and 
yet, before he reached the home gate, she had time 
to whisper : “ Do you remember, it is written, 1 He 
findeth his own brother; and he brought him to 
Jesus ’ ? ” 


V. 


N AN’S words were the key-note to the duties 
that greeted Nathan Parret hardly more than 
twenty-four hours after his arrival. Sad indeed 
was the story to which he hearkened. A tale told 
him not only by Miss Amanda and Judge Benson, 
but more pitifully, alas, by Victor’s own looks and 
words. But I have no mind to detail this chapter 
of evil ; enough for you to know is the sad fact 
that Victor had wandered into paths of dishonor 
and intemperance. And now the question was, 
how to help him back to the ways of righteous- 
ness and peace. This was Nathan’s chief thought, 
for a soul like his is always more ready to think of 
the good rather than of the evil. But how to fan into 
life the blighted and well-nigh destroyed desire 
after Higher things, was a problem that has puz- 
zled many beside Nathan. In Victor’s case it 
seemed more hopeless from the fact of his weak- 
ness of principle and unsteadiness of purpose, ex- 
cept in matters that had to do with his own self- 
gratification. 

Nathan realized that the first upward step re- 
( 212 ) 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


213 


quired that he should associate with his superiors 
rather than inferiors, and this involved severance 
from the companions Victor had sought for years 
— a set of idle, dissolute men, who, attracted by 
his wealth and weakness, had gathered about him, 
and to whose guidance he had yielded himself, 
much as a silly fly yields to a spider. 

Though the lives of these brothers had been al- 
ways marked by contrast, never had it been so ap- 
parent as at this time, when Nathan’s soul lived in 
a climate all unlike Victor’s ; and yet, in more than 
one prominent trait of character, they still resem- 
bled one another, thus demonstrating the truth, 
“ that it is not a man’s natural character, but the 
use he makes of it, which stamps him as good or 
evil.” But I said I would not detail wrong-doing, 
and indeed there is no need, when the fashion of 
the time is to analyze the subtle working of sin in 
the hearts of men and women, till we meet its 
story on, alas, far too many printed pages. A mat- 
ter for deep regret, for, can we become familiar with 
the details of evil without losing something from 
our own hearts? Must we know every step of the 
path the tempted have trod before we can point to 
the way of return ? Must we know evil to be able 
to help from evil ? I think not ; for I believe we 
never listen to unnecessary details of sin, or let 


214 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


our eyes rest on printed records of it, however pow- 
erful it may make the story, without weakening our 
power to help the erring ; for there is an untold up- 
ward influence exerted on the sinner, from the very 
fact that the one striving to help him is ignorant, 
as well as innocent, of the depth out of which the 
hand of love would fain guide. Love — that is the 
knowledge our hearts need if we are to help wan- 
derers from darkness to light. Just Love — Christ’s 
Love — it is the only remedy; for it points to for- 
giveness through His Divine compassion. 

All this has nothing to do with Nathan Parret’s 
determination to cast aside the offers of high im- 
portance, as the world counts position, which were 
extended to him from near and far on his return 
to his own country. His refusal of these honors 
met with strong remonstrance from many of his 
friends, among former classmates and instructors ; 
they even held up to ridicule the narrow sphere he 
had chosen, bounded by the practice of a New 
England village and township. But was it thus 
bounded ? And is any sphere narrow, wherein we 
may worship God, and serve His creatures? That 
Nathan’s friends did not all recognize this spiritual 
wideness is not to be wondered at, when we remem- 
ber even the breaking of the box of precious oint- 
ment was a waste in the eyes of our Lord’s own 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


215 


disciples ! But Nathan knew there was in real 
truth as broad a field for service in and about his 
own home, as in the cities to which he was invited, — 
either to fill the place of a professor, or practitioner 
of medicine, — the difference being, not in the import- 
ance of the work needing to be done, and the in- 
fluence needing to be exerted, but in the fact that 
the more public position would win wider notice 
and fame ; and this he resisted, though it cost his 
ambition more of a struggle than he liked to own 
even to himself. But the conflict once over, he 
entered cheerfully into partnership with the village 
physician, Dr. Page, a man so rapidly aging, that 
before two years had gone by, the burden and re- 
sponsibility of the work rested on Nathan, and 
earnestly he took it up. This practice of medicine 
was his outward life-work ; as for the hidden work, 
the striving to reclaim his brother Victor from the 
bondage of sin, often it pressed heavily and seemed 
a well-nigh hopeless task ; but even at the darkest, 
Nathan never lost courage ; and time sped on, till it 
counted a full decade since his return to his native 
land. 


VI. 


I T is strange how, in our earth-bound histories, 
after a stretch of uneventful years, there is wont 
to come a period marked by experiences as import- 
ant and pronounced as Nature’s four seasons in the 
revolving year. It was thus in Nathan Parret’s life 
the year of which I now tell ; and the events stood 
out like pictures, each portraying a different scene, 
in circumstances as unlike as the stories which 
make the separate cantos of some poem of a by- 
gone age. They will not take long to describe, and 
after their recountal, we will close this record, for 
we must needs leave it an unending tale, since it 
purports to be the recital of a soul’s life; for no 
one ever yet could follow a soul to the very end, 
when this mortal life that we know is but the be- 
ginning of the immortal. There is, also, too much 
of solitude in a soul’s history for it to be aught 
more than a fragmentary record, when told by 
words. This aloneness of soul, — I wonder why the 
sense of it, to our finite comprehension, becomes so 
much more profound as the end of earthly exist- 
ence draws near? And yet, how we mistake about 
(216) 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


217 


it ; we cry aloud in our anguish because we must 
go, or, harder still, let our dearest go, out into the 
mystery and silence, unaccompanied by human 
companionship ; for all we can do, with all our love, 
is to hold close the hand of the departing till its 
clasp loosens, and Heaven’s gate swings wide, open- 
ing for one to enter, closing for one to stay without. 
Yes, it is all we can do ; hence, no wonder we cry, 
“ Oh ! that we might die in pairs, or companies ! ” 
And who knows but we do? For, though our mor- 
tal eyes are holden, who knows what blessed com- 
panionship there may be waiting in the silence and 
the mystery, to enter Heaven hand-in-hand with 
our beloved? But while our knowledge of this 
must be vague as an undefined hope, one thing is 
sure — even while we, because of the limitations of 
our present understanding, think and speak of the 
loneliness of a soul parting from the familiar home 
of mortality, there is, nevertheless, a companionship 
closer and nearer that dread hour than any love of 
ours can fathom ; for, remember, Christ said : “ Lo ! 
I am with you always.” Always! think, it enfolds 
here on earth, and There in Heaven. Always! only 
a brief word ; but you will find it wide as a rain- 
bow, if you let it over-arch your tears when next 
you weep, for verily it shines on tears till they be- 
come banded colors, like unto the Bow of Promise. 


2 18 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 

Since life, in teaching its lessons, is free from the 
formal bounding of man’s reckoning of time, autumn 
— rather than spring, or the dawning of a new year 
— encompassed the first of the four experiences that 
meant so much to Nathan Parret. 

Autumn ! — yes ; surely it is the season most rich 
in types of Nathan’s long, patient endeavor to res- 
cue Victor from evil ; for at no other time of the 
year does Nature display contrasts between bright- 
ness and gloom in colors so sharply defined. And 
at no time did Nathan’s hopes for Victor fall thick 
and fast like dead leaves, as during the autumn of 
which I now tell, for it holds the darkest page of 
the many dark pages in Victor Parret’s life that 
were written over with sad falls from honor to dis- 
honor. And yet, morning after morning, he prom- 
ised to shun the very temptations that, at evening, 
he yielded to. 

Truly, afterward, when Nathan recalled that time, 
he might well feel for him and his, there was a 
moral significance in the Americanism which calls 
the autumn the “ fall of the year.” Anyway, “the 
fall is a fit name for the season ; it gives its main 
characteristics.” And yet it is not marked only by 
fading and decay ; for autumn is the time of harvest- 
home; during which ripened grain and fruit tell 
even the dullest listener to Nature’s messages that 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


219 


the labor and hope of seed-time has become a ful- 
filled promise. It was this Nathan strove to re- 
member; and so, for long, he kept a glow of hope 
in his heart, just as the maple leaves kept their 
golden and scarlet brightness even on to late Octo- 
ber. Then there came a night of keen frost, fol- 
lowed by a high wind, that, when morning came, 
had scattered the golden, red, and russet leaves in 
great heaps beneath the tree-boughs that, for days, 
they had robed in beauty and glory. 

The night when the frost made this havoc was 
the one in which they brought Victor home, seem- 
ingly a lifeless, senseless burden. The innocent 
children slept spite the heavy tread of men’s feet 
as they crossed the threshold, but Miss Amanda 
* heard and understood. 

Weeks, full of care and anxiety, followed that 
night. During them Nathan was gentle as a moth- 
er, and Hester tender as a wife, while slowly 
strength and intelligence came back to Victor. 
This was how that autumn became a marked time 
for Nathan Parret. 

It was mid-winter before Victor regained any- 
thing like health ; then there was a brief time of 
apparent return to vigor, and when Nathan was 
summoned to the bedside of a patient who lived 
far off over the hills, he did not hesitate in leaving 


220 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


Victor to Hester’s unaided care for the twenty-four 
hours he expected to be absent. It was clear in 
the early morning when he started ; but before 
noon-time clouds overcast the blue sky, and snow- 
flakes began to fall in such quick succession that 
by five o’clock of the afternoon, when the short win- 
ter’s day darkened, a heavy white mantle stretched 
over the hills and valleys for miles around Parret 
House. 

Hester shivered as she drew the curtains, and 
wondered if Nathan had reached his destination ; 
and then, remembering that perchance he had been 
met on the way by a message, saying his coming 
was “ too late,” and thus might return that very 
night, she drew back the crimson folds that she had 
let fall from before one of the front windows, that 
a gleam of light might shine out across the white 
roadway like a welcome home if he should return. 

As she left the window, her eyes rested for a 
minute on the face of her husband, beautiful to her 
still, spite the marring touch of his misspent years. 
He was sitting in his father’s arm-chair, which was 
pushed before the glowing fire burning on the wide 
hearth. His head was resting against the back- 
ground of a crimson cushion, and his eyes were 
closed. Hester thought him sleeping as she paused 
by his side and bent and kissed his forehead be- 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


221 


fore she left the room. She expected to return 
immediately, but she was detained for a full hour ; 
first by Miss Amanda, who lived in the Chateau 
wing of the house now, that being Nathan’s home, 
and then by the little people of the nursery. For 
though Adolph and the sisters Ruey and Sue were 
no longer children, other little ones had come to 
make music in the old mansion — a tiny girl, sweet 
and winsome as Ruey, and a baby boy, called Wol- 
cott, in honor of the old Squire, whom Hester 
prayed he might resemble in character as well as 
name. 

After these two delays it was quite dark when 
she re-entered the north parlor, save for the flicker- 
ing, grotesque shadows the fire-light sent hovering 
up to the ceiling and playing around the old por- 
traits and massive furniture, as it burnt low, and 
then shot up again in a fitful flame. Hester paid 
little heed to the dancing shadows, as she hastened 
to strike a match and light the lamp standing ready 
on the centre-table, — and then, a second later, she 
suddenly saw she was alone in the room — Victor 
had gone — and all in a moment she knew what that 
meant. 

Women, disciplined as Hester had been for years, 
learn a wonderful self-control ; by nature, too, she 
was not timid, for she was one in whom the spirit- 


222 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


ual predominated over the physical, and silently 
she made ready to go forth in search of her wan- 
dering husband. Even Miss Amanda’s quick ear 
did not catch the faint echo of her soft footfall as 
she crossed the wide hall and silently opened and 
closed the front door ; neither did the sisters Ruey 
and Sue, who were busy with their lessons in Miss 
Amanda’s room. As for Adolph, he was away from 
home at boarding-school, while the men and maid- 
servants were in the back part of the house ; thus 
it happened that she, like Victor, passed unnoticed 
out from the warmth and shelter of home, into the 
cold of the mid-winter night. When Hester reached 
the road, she stood still for a minute, surrounded 
by the pure white snow that was so true an emblem 
of her own sweet, pure soul. It was a dreary scene 
on which she looked ; the trees lifted their leafless 
branches up toward the sky as though in mute ap- 
peal for some help which did not come ; and the 
sky, so tender and compassionate in summer and 
spring nights, looked cold and fathomless as she 
gazed up into the deep blue, from before which the 
clouds had rolled away. Even the stars, that to 
Hester had always seemed like loving angels, look- 
ing down in pity for the woes of the sorrowing 
children of earth, seemed now to be no longer sym- 
pathetic. 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


223 


All this was Hester’s fancy; for, in reality, Na- 
ture’s encompassing of that winter’s night gave sign 
of no unusual occurrence, either in “ the heavens 
above, or the earth beneath.” No ; it was nothing 
more than a land and sky-scape, the like of which 
might be seen many a night again before either the 
snow melted or the leafless tree-boughs budded. It 
was merely a picture of still-life, except for the figure 
of a solitary man, wending his way through the 
newly-fallen snow, and hence making a path for 
himself, unaided by snow-plough or shovel, which 
suggested a certain amount of purpose. But, alas ! 
there are paths and paths ! 

It was but slow progress the man made ; for often 
he stopped, as though undecided as to the way he 
should go, turning and looking first toward one, 
and then toward the other of the two gleams of 
light that shone across the stainless snow — one 
tempting him to the village tavern, the other call- 
ing him to return to Parret House ; one falling like 
an ugly blot of red, lurid light on an otherwise 
white page, the other flooding the dooryard and 
roadway before his home with a radiance soft and 
mellow. 

As Victor — for that solitary, wandering man was 
none other than Victor Parret — turned from the 
one to the other of these lights, almost it seemed 


224 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


to his watching wife as though she could feel the 
swaying of his purpose — from right to wrong, peace 
to misery ; and he was, spiritually, like a pendulum, 
swinging between two hours on the dial-plate — one 
marking the knell of doom, the other ringing out 
loud and clear the sweet note of victory won over 
evil. 

There was nothing striking or unusual in the 
scene, as I said. It was only a country road, with 
two lights from opposite points shining across the 
unbroken level of the snow ; and yet — the fate of a 
soul hung on the decision made then and there ! 
— Two lights! Ah! which would he seek? There 
was agony in Hester’s cry that hour, as, kneeling 
on the cold snow, she clasped her hands in prayer, 
and pleaded for her husband’s soul. — And think, 
hundreds of women know just such hours ; and, 
woman-like, they hide them by smiles ! 

Afterward, all Victor Parret could tell of that time 
was that, as he stood halting between those beckon- 
ing lights, his whole being trembled with a conflict 
of emotions, before which he bowed like a reed bent 
by the wind. Hester, his children, Nathan, and 
home, seemed calling from one side, while from the 
other sounded the Voice that only the tempted 
can understand ; and then — suddenly, as some cap- 
tive bound by rivet and chain, — he turned and fled 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


225 


from the tempting, lurid light with a force that, in 
a moment, broke chain and rivet. And Victor Par- 
ret was free ! Ten years and more a prisoner, bound 
with the chain of temptation yielded to, and now — 
all in a moment — free ! 

No wonder he could not tell the details of that 
sharp struggle with, and that blessed victory over, 
temptation. But God knew their meaning; God 
knew how he had overcome, for God had heard 
and answered a woman’s prayer that hour. 

After that first step toward right, a great sense 
of protection and safety came over Victor; and 
like a child, he put his hand into Hester’s, while 
gently she led him across the home threshold, back 
into warmth and shelter ; and the earthly home to 
which she guided was only an emblem of the Heav- 
enly Home, where we will never know what it 
means to be tempted. This wandering and return 
of Victor’s, on that bleak night, encompassed the 
experience which stamped that winter-time for Na- 
than Parret as a season never to be forgotten, even 
when it glided into spring. — Yes, spring — for, so 
mindful is the Lord of His children, after winter 
spring comes. Spring, when all nature is glad as a 
smile ; when, in very truth, it is a smile of God’s mer- 
cy, proclaimed by the reviving life of earth’s growing 
iS 


226 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

things, — proclaimed, too, to the dwellers of Parret 
House by the mercy that wakened a new life in the 
soul of a man who had for years been little better 
than a dry, dead thing. For while, after that win- 
ter’s night, Victor did not fall again into outward 
sin, he did not come into the Light of God’s Love 
till the spring-time. But then he felt Nature’s ten- 
der parable of renewed life, and he heeded the les- 
son ; and thus, before the spring gave way to 
summer, in the old house we have learned to know 
so well, there came a day when Hester, Miss Aman- 
da, and Nathan, softly whispered, the one to the 
other : “ Rejoice with me, for the one who was dead is 
alive again ; he was lost, and he is found.” But, it 
was not of joy Victor spoke, but of “ the mighty 
famine ” when he began to be in want ; and when 
he came to himself, and said, “ Father, I have 
sinned and “ when, while he was still a great way 
off, his Father saw him, and had compassion.” 

It was just the old story over again, of a man 
lost through sin, and sought through Love , and found 
through repentance. For, spite the Love and the 
seeking, there is no return to the Father’s home 
without repentance. The sinner of to-day, like the 
prodigal of old, must learn every word of that prod- 
igal’s confession. And even then repentance does 
not change his poverty, or his misery ; all that lifts 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


227 


him out and above them is God’s gift, through 
Christ. — Think of that gift ; it welcomes the wan- 
derer, without reproach, — the Father did not even 
say, “ My prodigal son ! ” No; He said, “ My son ! ” 
And then came restoration to the rank of a son : 
“ Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him ; and 
put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet.” The 
robe, even the garment of righteousness ; the ring, 
a signet, with which the restored one might stamp 
his petitions, and seek large bounty from his Fa- 
ther’s treasury ; and shoes for his feet, “ shod with 
the preparation of the Gospel of Peace.” So piti- 
ful was the Heavenly Father to poor, weak Victor, 
He did not leave him on earth to be tested by any 
long trial. No ; He knew the weakness of the re- 
pentant child come home to Him, and after the 
summer had come and gone, the mortal life passed 
on to the immortal — for “ with God, not the quan- 
tity, but the quality of faith is the thing of chief im- 
portance.” And Victor’s faith was simple as a 
child’s, and that was all God asked of him. 

A strange contrast this, to the long trial and 
repeated tests by which the Heavenly Father 
strengthened and prepared Nathan Parret’s soul 
for His service, enabling him to gain the mastery 
over his own will, that led him to yield self-will to 
God’s will. Only a strong will knows what that 


228 A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 

means. But the Lord appoints the training each 
of His followers needs; and some of us are such 
poor, weak children, we are only fit to work in His 
vineyard for the eleventh hour, while strong souls, 
like Nathan’s, can mount up as on wings, and for 
them there is service from sunrise to sundown. 

You hardly need to be told, for Nathan the ex- 
perience of the spring was the joy of his brother’s 
repentance — a joy that sealed it a time never to be 
forgotten ; for repentance, and the return of prod- 
igals, is a joy that lasts through eternity, and fills 
with music the songs of the redeemed. 

And now our way leads on to summer. — Sum- 
mer ; the word suggests sweet content and calm — 
and the suggestion holds true of the hour of which 
I tell, for its atmosphere was peace. The moon 
was at its full, just rising over the tree-tops, touch- 
ing them with silvery glory, like a benediction, while 
its beams illumined earth and sky with a shimmer 
of soft radiance, in which the stars shone like lesser 
lights before the greater luminary. And thus they 
became emblems of the emotions stirring Nathan 
Parret’s heart ; for his dream of early love, which 
had never known the awaking of realization, grew 
pale and shadowy that even-tide, before the fuller, 
deeper power of later affection. 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


229 


It was a tender evening; there was scarcely a 
breath of air astir — only the moonbeams seemed 
freighted with messages that wakened dim mem- 
ories of the past that stirred the soul, while at the 
same time they thrilled it with hopes of the pres- 
ent. It was an hour, too, that stood apart from all 
others, lustrous and bright, though with a subdued 
radiance that had something holy and quiet in it, 
like the glimmer with which a pearl shines among 
sparkling gems. 

Nathan Parret and Nan Benson felt its subtle 
power ; and, though they had met almost every day 
of the ten years since Nathan’s return home, never, 
except during the first interview, had their hearts 
come so close in conscious sympathy, as they did 
that evening when together they walked the famil- 
iar high-road. Nevertheless, they were silent till 
they came to the turn where the two paths met — 
the one leading across the level stretch of sandy 
plain ; the other toward the wood-road, by the side 
of the singing brooklet. It was Nathan who at last 
broke the silence, and the words he uttered were 
naught more than the simple question : “ Which 
path shall we take?” But as he thus asked, a 
tide of feeling, strong and masterful as a sea-wave, 
swayed him, and without waiting for Nan to reply, 
he led the way toward the path where the wild- 


230 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER. 


flowers grew, and where tree-boughs met in loving 
intimacy of branch and twig — strong forest trees, 
around which woodbine and ivy climbed for support. 

Have you ever noted how joy, like pain, is brief 
in its sway of the most intense emotions? Hence 
it is, that the story which changes life from prose 
to poetry takes but a minute in its telling. At 
least it was thus in Nathan’s and Nan’s experience, 
for the moon was still in the east, the glow of sun- 
light still in the west, when Nathan had said his 
say, and Nan had whispered — Yes. 

An hour later the white-haired judge, Nan’s fa- 
ther, and Miss Amanda, had heard the news. And 
then Nathan and Nan knelt side by side, hand in 
hand, while in a voice feeble and low, a man still in 
the early years of middle age, but with strength 
broken and gone, had whispered a prayer of blessing 
on their bowed heads. That prayer was the first 
audible petition Victor Parret had offered. Do you 
wonder, with the blessings for which Victor pleaded, 
thanksgivings were blended for Nathan’s love, which 
had turned aside from worldly honor and success, 
self-pleasing and self-seeking, to give ten years of 
his strong, brave life to the service of striving 
to help rescue from the power of evil “his own 
brother,” that he might “bring him to Jesus.” 
Truly, Victor had cause for thanksgiving ! 


A MODERN SAINT CHRISTOPHER . 


231 


Nathan and Nan were still kneeling — though Vic- 
tor’s prayer had ended, when, like some note of 
sweetest music, the hush in the room was broken 
by Hester’s voice, as softly she murmured: “Na- 
than, my brother, Offero , 4 the bearer,’ crowned now 
Saint Christopher.” 

Next day Patty Gaylord went winging her way 
from one house to another in the village and town- 
ship of N . And everywhere she went she told 

the glad tidings, that Nathan Parret and Nan Ben- 
son, those two, so well worthy of one another, had 
at last discovered, that only as their hearts were 
attuned, the one to the other, in the happiness of 
married love, could their lives yield the full har- 
mony of service that belongs to souls, “ set each to 
each, like perfect music unto noblest words.” 

Had bright-eyed Patty any happy secret of her 
own to tell? For a reply to that question you 
must seek Judge Benson’s oldest grandson. I think, 
— yes, I feel sure, he will answer in the very words 
his Aunt Nan used when she told Miss Amanda of 
her gladness : “ It is summer over all the land, — 
and summer in all our hearts.” 





























































































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